


Scandal

by LieutenantStrawberry



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Case Fic, Crime, Drama, Established Amanda Grayson/Sarek, Family Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Logic Extremism, Logic Extremists, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Press and Tabloids, Slow Build, Thriller, V'tosh ka'tur, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantStrawberry/pseuds/LieutenantStrawberry
Summary: Amanda and Sarek’s marriage filled all kinds of tabloids and magazines across the galaxy as soon as the news went public. The press is eager to report even the minimal incident involving them, but in the middle of tension inside the Vulcan political scene, there’s no place for mistakes. A controversial picture is leaked to the galaxy to see, triggering a very public open court that jeopardizes Sarek’s entire career and let him exposed to an audience that is willing to tear him apart.Currently being edited.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek
Comments: 50
Kudos: 49





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm not an English native speaker, please feel free to point out mistakes :)  
> This story heavily features original characters in order to move the plot. 
> 
> Previously published on FF.net.

###  **The Terran Times**

* * *

**People / Fashion and Style**

###  **_Whoops! Awkward Amanda Grayson Breaks Vulcan Etiquette with Her 'Vulgar' Outfits…Again!_ **

Written by Loretta Flowers

**Photo.** Amanda Grayson at the Voyage Inn.

**YOU MAY ALSO LIKE**

Tension Inside Vulcan Grows as 'Logic Advocates' Increase

Amanda Grayson—the new wife of the current Vulcan Ambassador to Earth—joined her husband, Ambassador Sarek, in a top class event this week at the Voyage Inn and what a mess! For the millionth time, Miss Grayson didn't seem to care for Vulcan's modesty protocols and wore a scandalous red dress with transparencies and uncovered shoulders that brought her to the attention of all attendees.

How can you not stare at her wearing exactly what you should never wear to a party full of Vulcans!?

Somehow, she still manages to be the less interesting outfit in the room.

**[Continue reading this article]**

* * *

**People / Socials**

###  **"She Always Had a Bit of a Vulcan Fetish": Amanda Grayson's Former Ex-Classmate Speaks Out.**

Written by Alex Tremblay

**Photo.** Mia Grant and Amanda Grayson in Terran Languages Institute in Federation's Day festival.

**YOU MAY ALSO LIKE**

Councilman Skon's Family in 40 Photos

Mia Grant is a 28-years-old teacher born in California, Earth, who attended Terran Languages Institute alongside the controversial Amanda Grayson.

"We were kinda close, like friends. Amanda was one of the smartest girls in the whole class, but she always had a bit of a Vulcan fetish", declared Mia Grant in an exclusive interview for The Terran Times, disclosing all kinds of stories of the real Amanda Grayson to the public.

"She was always bringing Vulcan and Vulcans into the conversation. No matter what we were talking about, she would force a commentary for no reason, which was really uncomfortable for everyone. She was so weird and we were all shocked by the extent of her obsession for pointy ears. I was constantly calling her out, because It's not okay to fetish a whole species. I would say: 'Amanda, you can't stalk that Vulcan Ambassador! It's so creepy to keep pictures of him in your PADD. You better stop or you're gonna get arrested!', but she would never listen to me. In fact, the wallpaper of the PADD she brought to class everyday was the picture of Ambassador Savek [Sarek]. She was so obsessed with him!" added Grant, when she was asked to talk about Amanda's behavior during her years as a student of Terran Languages Institute.

Miss Grant also revealed in exclusive the unconventional weekend activities Amanda used to do during her student years, and claimed that she is not after Ambassador Sarek's fortune: "She [Amanda] liked to be around the Vulcan embassy in our city on the weekends. I guess that's how she and Ambassador Sovek [Sarek] met because I can't think otherwise. I remember that, one day, I greeted her before class and she just said that she was gonna marry a Vulcan. I thought she was joking, but we all were pretty aware of her obsession with Vulcans. Well, she did it… It doesn't surprise me, to be honest. Amanda was always really determined and clear about what she wanted in her life. I'm truly sorry on Ambassador Sorek's [Sarek] behalf. We all know she's crazy and, even though, I'm sure that she's not a gold digger and she doesn't want his money at all… I can bet that he's just the dreamy Vulcan trophy husband she was always begging for".

**[Continue reading this article]**

* * *

###  **The Galaxy Inquirer**

* * *

**Socials / Vulcan / Media and Politics**

###  **DISOWNED: Councilman Skon's Youngest Son Just Married Human Amanda Grayson and the Family Isn't Happy**

Written by Alejandra Lowell

**Photo.** Councilman Skon, Chairwoman T'Kin and their older son, Ambassador Silek.

**Related news:** What Does the Vulcan 'Royalty' Think About Ambassador Sarek's Marriage with a HUMAN?

**Earth—** After Councilman Skon's son, Sarek, vanished in the air and stayed for months out of the public eye, a lot has been said about the possible motive behind. We can't deny how sudden his disappearance was! But finally, responses to galaxy-wide asked questions surfaced at the beginning of the current year when the news became public; Ambassador Sarek has married human Amanda Grayson six months prior. But we won't get lovely pictures with the in-laws' because it's painfully obvious that Councilman Skon and his wife, Chairwoman T'Kin, are not pleased with their youngest son's choices.

The whole galaxy has voiced out loud their opinions. The balance indicates that Ambassador Sarek and Amanda Grayson's recent wedding was an event that no one asked for. It fits perfectly into the "complete disgrace" category for the groom's family as they have already let us know by stepping aside and doing the Vulcan equivalent of cutting him out of the familiar album. It's not a secret that the only Vulcan at the place was Sarek, and just Amanda's friends attended the ceremony that took place on Earth.

A quick look at official pictures reflects Sarek's fall from grace with his family. Now the preference seems up to Ambassador to the Federation, Silek, who's all what his parents expected of him; successful, educated, well-spoken and an impeccable man who is—basically—the Vulcan etiquette and protocols made flesh.

The most recent photo taken at the Vulcan festival of summer celebrated in Shi'Kahr speaks volumes about the strained familiar status. We can see a perfect family portrait of three in the official photos and, of course, baby brother Sarek and his new human wife are not invited to the party.

**[Click to read article]**

* * *

###  **The Saturn Post**

* * *

**Vulcan / People / Media**

###  **_'False Flag' Wedding: Is Amanda Grayson a Crisis Actor?_**

Written by Lucas Noyes

**PHOTO.** Ambassador Sarek standing next to his human assistant, 26-years-old Scott Langdon, at the Voyage Inn meeting last Thursday.

**Read more:** Ambassador Sarek: Human-Friendly or Fetishist?

Crisis actors have been all over the news since the 21st century, in all kinds of staged tragedies and events to distract from actual events, shaping public opinion in the vilest way. Needless to say, Ambassador Sarek—the current representative of Vulcan interests on Earth—became a controversial figure when he married Amanda Grayson earlier this year.

This alleged wedding has made headlines in various reputable media outlets, but none appear to have found any concrete information about the circumstances surrounding this event. The only thing we know about Amanda Grayson is that she was born in San Francisco and studied to be an educator. In general, the details of her life before the wedding are rather vague, and in my opinion, irrelevant since we can't be sure that this is even real.

What's interesting pops up when you examine the other half of this very odd couple. Contrary to Mrs. Grayson, the ambassador is no stranger to media coverage.

His official profile on the Vulcan embassy website indicates where he has served and provides a brief summary of his career as a diplomat. At first glance, he does not differ from any of the other diplomats listed as active ambassadors.

The difference between him and his compatriots lies in the background that the government page has left out. In the Vulcan version, we can find the full names of all diplomats. It is not necessary to dig too deep to realize that this ambassador is not just any mortal and that he is part of a line of renowned government servants quite present in the media.

The description in both versions admits that he enrolled in the Vulcan Diplomatic Service School in the capital of the planet, but they do not list that this same school was renamed in honor of the famous Ambassador Solkar, his _grandfather_.

**PHOTO.** Ambassador Solkar with Zefram Cochrane during the famous first contact.

We all know who Ambassador Solkar is. His name is imprinted alongside Zefram Cochrane in the story of our journey to reach the stars that began in the 20th century.

The relationship between Vulcan and Earth has always been one of borderline rivalry. History is forgotten and by now, many have fallen in love with them. Today, they are perceived as the space police of righteousness to the point where their judgments are valued as sound without complaint by the Federation.

It is easy to believe that their reluctance to relate to us beyond the essentials is merely a cultural thing and we should think nothing of it. But this is clearly not the case. The Vulcans have demonstrated that on the basis of fallacies of authority—authority they have bestowed upon themselves based on philosophies of their own that they do not hesitate to impose—they can grant themselves the right to override other species for their benefit or stop them from achieving progress if it is inconvenient for them.

One must be skeptical. To the untrained eye, this wedding looks like a step forward in terms of diplomatic relations between the two planets as is the case with the relationship with Andoria. Still, we cannot ignore the tumultuous history we have to Vulcan and its diplomats.

If we analyze the leaked pictures, we can notice that they look planned and artificial. It looks like a bunch of stills taken from a bad staged scene of some crappy rom-com, where the actors have no chemistry whatsoever. Even the guests seem more into it than the alleged couple! Are we supposed to believe that they _love_ each other?

This whole affair looks like a PR move on the Vulcans' behalf. We all know how they like to insert themselves into everything.

They have been gatekeeping humanity since Cochrane's era and we can't fall for this anymore! If Amanda Grayson is not consciously partaking in this re-brand, that intents to sell us Vulcans like if they weren't that annoying, condescending babysitter humanity have never asked for, then I feel sorry for her because she's probably been brainwashed by them and we should be afraid of the extent of Vulcan telepathic power.

**[Keep reading]**

* * *

###  **The Sun Journal**

* * *

**Opinion**

###  **What Ambassador Sarek's Marriage with Amanda Grayson Tell Us about Vulcan Society?**

By Varith

**Photo.** Amanda Grayson (left) and Ambassador Sarek last month in Andoria alongside a human aide, Scott Langdon.

**Related article:** Shi'Kahr Awakens Covered in Logic Extremists' Graffiti After Ambassador Sarek's Marriage News Reach Vulcan

**Editor's note:** Varith is a Vulcan journalist and author of the best-seller "The Children of Surak: The consequences of emotional repression", based in Earth who is an advocate for interspecies cooperation and spokesman for the 'Thon-tor ozhika' organization against logic extremism.

**Earth, Solar System** —After Ambassador Sarek and Miss Grayson's bonding ceremony became of public knowledge, an extensive spectrum of reactions and insights have surfaced throughout the means of communication.

The press' backlash both of them have faced is widely known, focused on pointless speculations such as discussing the alleged intentions of Miss Grayson or calling into question Ambassador's personal preferences, but public opinion of the average non-Vulcan individual is inclined to be an approbatory one.

The relationship between Vulcans and humans had been cooperative from the beginning, but paradoxically distant and condescending where humans had put so much trust in Vulcans' logic and opinion. It's been twenty-tree standard years since I left Vulcan, but I still find my insights have been valued higher than my peers' because it's assumed that Vulcans are incapable of being judgmental and all we said is entirely substantiated in infallible logic.

Needless to say that this is an untruthful assumption.

As a resident of Earth, and a Vulcan who is no longer a strict follower of Surak's teachings, I have learned to recognized Vulcans' preference for traditions that had barely evolved since the Awakening Time, and are now deeply rooted inside Vulcan society, justified with arbitrary logic-coated arguments. It is clear that Ambassador Sarek has broken one of the most sacred and unofficial rules for Vulcans. He has disrupted the order and what is expected of an average Vulcan male born and raised in a conservative environment of Surak's followers as myself, where the IDIC seems to be merely an accessory to present ourselves as less hostile to the public.

Vulcans respect the infinite diversity in infinite combinations as long as it does not disrupt their strict way of living or it's not present inside their own families. Vulcans taking human mates is something that has been happening for a considerable amount of time, at great risk and all of them have paid a high price because of it.

A man in the position of Ambassador Sarek, who is not only a member of one of the oldest families in Vulcan that still holds the ancient traditions tightly, but also a representative of the planet to the exterior, should take into consideration how this is going to impact on his public image. It's not misguided to ask how those who value logic above all, feel about this event and be represented by a person who has deliberately chosen an opposite path to the one that has been decided for all us for over five hundred years.


	2. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velekh's disappearance causes concern to his friends. However, he seems to have vanished from the face of the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Photos** [Received]

 **From:** Velekh

_Good morning, Varith:_

_I have finished editing the pamphlets for the Federation day festival. Let me know if you wish to add a modification._

**_ Download file _ **

_Greetings, Velekh._

He re-read the mail again. It was the last one he had received from Velekh after he went into another of his not so unusual escapades. Often, Varith and T'Mirek would be able to predict when Velekh would run away, but not this time.

Varith took his third cup of lemon tea in the day.

He was concerned for Velekh's sudden departure without notification in advance. It was not the first time Velekh had fled away and failed to tell anyone, but it was the longest time, none of them had seen or heard of him. He used to disappear for days when the need for meditation and the doubts were too much to bear. He had said to Varith how scared he was for his life since he was not a common V'tosh ka'tur from an average fundamentalist family, but an ex-member of a family of supporters of logic extremists.

Varith had been living alone for a while after Velekh felt that his constant inner fight with emotions was an inconvenient for Varith and moved out, but he knew that Velekh still felt ashamed of displaying emotions in the presence of another individual— specially the Vulcans ones—as he was during the first five years after moving to Earth.

That night after work, Varith walked to Velekh's apartment in the center of the city. It was heavily raining, but humans didn't seem to mind the bad weather as much as he. It resembled his first day on Earth so long ago, and the cold sensation he felt once he stepped into the street, brought back a few of the most unpleasant memories of his early days as a Terran resident.

"Oh, good night," greeted a human man who lived in the next apartment with a trash bag in his right hand.

His name was Robert.

Varith knew that he was some sort of friend of the younger Vulcan because he had taken care of Velekh's terrain pet, a feline named "Cat", that was the first word he ever learned when he started learning Standard.

"Have you seen Velekh?"

"No."

"Do you know when he'll be back? Cat misses him," The man said. Robert walked until both were close and turned his eyes to Velekh's apartment before meeting Varith's eyes. "You don't know, right?"

Varith shook his head and Robert sighed heavily, his eyes full of an indecipherable emotion.

"I haven't gone to check inside his apartment, I don't know if I _should_. Anyways, here's the key he gave me when you know, was out there the first time. I've been keeping it in my pocket since yesterday, but I don't think I'm allowed to go to his apartment if he's not there," he said uncomfortable to bring the topic into the conversation with practically a stranger.

That was an ambiguous statement. Varith felt confused and tried to think why the human would be reluctant to enter Velekh's apartment despite had been granted permission, but he stayed quiet.

"Why he provided you a key of his apartment?"

"He wanted someone to take care of Cat, just in case, but he didn't say why," the human sighed before add, "Kinda weird cause he'd always take Cat with him when he was, y'know, _gone_ ," Robert said with a shrug and started to walk away to get rid of the trash bag in his hand as he intended.

"When did you see him for the last time?"

The human turned to face Varith again, doubtful and visibly uncomfortable.

"I don't know… Hum, he was not himself at all these days. I saw him twice, I needed help with my old screen and he gave a hand with that, but I didn't want to bother him 'cause he was working."

_Working._

The fluorescent white lamps flickered, making the human uncomfortable.

"Would you like a beer? I don't like to stay in the hall for so long. These lights are kinda creepy, but the lessor is cheap as fuck and won't replace them."

Varith saved the key in his pocket and walked toward Robert's apartment. The young human seemed to forget he still had a trash bag in the hand, but he ignored that fact in order to get more information about Velekh's sudden disappear.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting across a round shaped table in the human's apartment waiting while he got rid of the trash bag.

He glanced around the place.

It was similar to his Vulcan friend's but not as clean and collected.

He inevitably focused his attention in a show that it was on the screen, a show that mixed comedy to speak about sensitive topics hosted by a human. Twenty-three years proved to be insufficient to understand the role of the pre-recorded laugh track. The joke remained the same without an audience laughing hysterically.

"… _Logic extremists got artsy this week! Shi'kahr awoke covered in pretty passive aggressive art… Well, aggressive aggresive would be more accurate. It looks like they won't be sending Ambassador Sarek a coffee maker as a wedding gift, unless is actually a homemade b…"_

The sound of the main door opening brought him back to reality.

"Sorry, outside is a mess."

"It is no matter."

The human turned off the screen and sat at the table offering him a canned alcoholic drink.

"Do you think that maybe he… I don't know, man. Did he say something to you?"

"No."

"Right, that's why you're here. Sorry, I'm nervous," said Robert taking a sip of his drink. "I was telling you in the hall… he was scared. I'd never seen a Vulcan scared before, but I know he was. Well, y'all not like any other Vulcan I've meet, like… Those cold hearted guys with the bowl cut, I mean."

The silence filled the room. Cat appeared in the small kitchen doorframe and Robert looked back to Varith.

"I can take care of Cat. I always wanted a cat, but mom didn't like pets," he said, Varith nodded and thank him for the drink before leaving.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

"Velekh?"

No response.

Velekh's apartment was immersed in darkness.

Varith stepped in, turned the lights on while closed the door and glanced around from the doorframe. The place was utterly silent, which meant that Velekh was not there and that was an unusual behavior.

He walked to the living room, appalled by the disaster it was all over the walls. He frowned unconsciously not so sure what he should start to see first.

The wall was completely covered with pictures of the planet that once was their home, clippings and unrelated texts both in Vulcan and English about places in San Francisco and Vulcan.

 _"Temples,"_ Varith said to himself.

Temples and luxury places that not the average individual could afford were all over the wall near to the window. He tried to find a relation between those places, but nothing came to his mind, aside from doubts about Velekh's sanity. Perhaps, he intended to draw those places. Velekh was well versed in that field and pretty often, Velekh asked him where he could find art supplies.

 _"The Galaxy Inn will host Plahsjs' fashion show…"_ he read.

What relevancy had a haute couture fashion runaway for a man like Velekh?

Varith was certain that Velekh was not interested in fashion. It was pointless to concentrate on that detail, since he was inclined to think that the reason that Velekh didn't cut the complete article to post it in his wall meant that he was only interested in that specific part of the whole paper.

He took a seat in a chair placed in the middle of the room and imagined a lonely Velekh sat there.

Varith sighed silently wondering what he would have been thinking surrounded by all of that overwhelming amount of information.

The use of paper was an old-fashioned custom, but considering that Velekh had grown up in a family who held tradition tightly and had to learn to write perfectly in paper, analogous to the old italic writing style the ancient humans practiced, so Varith thought that he would be the kind of man who would still handwrite a journal instead of using a PADD like everyone.

A journal.

Varith stood and slowly searched throughout a bookshelf on the other side of the room, surprisingly, it was full of books and disordered journals with articles, papers and more clippings out of context. Definitely, pry into his personal handwritten logs was a violation of Velekh's privacy for what he was not very comfortable with, but was necessary. He took a bunch of them and sat on the floor to read them, after confirming that in fact those were written by Velekh. That clean and carefully executed handwritten sentences in Vulcan alphabet couldn't be made by someone else, a quick overview revealed how erratic the writing style become with the pass of the time.

_"All I always believed to be an absolute true is not more than pure biased opinions of unworthy individuals who perceive themselves a superior. I was told so many lies since the day I was born. The galaxy is not in the slightest what I was told. My mother and father have fallen for it and they have sacrificed their lives for a pointless and harmful cause. Moving to study abroad in the capital of the planet, Shi'kahr, has opened my eyes. I have read Surak's teachings in the library of the learning center and I learned about the IDIC principle. None of what I was told it is the learning center copy of Surak's teachings I borrowed, they never talked to me about it._

_I am having doubts._

_My whole belief system is trembling the more I read about the outside, the more I learn about others, the more I know about the galaxy."_

Varith thought that the decision to become a V'tosh Ka'tur should have been an utterly different experience to Velekh. He shuddered to wonder what he meant when he wrote about his parents sacrificing their lives.

_"Varith has said I would need to be prepared to leave behind all my belongings._

_We are going to finally meet here in Shi'kahr and I am terrified. I went to the temple for the last time, this is my final night in Vulcan before leaving forever to a better life when I will not be judged for embracing the emotions and vulnerability that has been with me since the day I was born._

_I reluctantly admit to myself that I feel emotional about my incoming departure. I will miss my planet, but not the people who I grew with. They are the reason I am leaving for the rest of my life._

_Our Way, the Vulcan way, has failed to admit our true nature as emotional beings. We stare at humans as if we were superior, but we live hiding an essential trait that has defined us for so long, which has proven to be detrimental and an extreme denial take in Vulcan nature._

_I have chosen to not partake in this anymore. I will not serve to this knowing what I know now."_

Varith touched the page, feeling the soft texture of the black ink in the paper covered in a masterly performed Vulcan writing.

_"I have finally arrived to the Earth. Everything is uncertain, but I trust in Varith's judgment when he affirmed I would, eventually, integrate into human society. I shall write in Standard from now as the Vulcan language evokes my past and my home planet. It is my wish to detach myself from what I have left behind when I decided to become a V'tosh Ka'tur."_

Varith leafed through a few pages, skipping Velekh's mundane early experiences on Earth until he stopped right during a page written in his third month after leaving Vulcan: _"The local temple at the center of the city is, in reality, a gathering place for logic extremists. Whose apparently are harmless residents as myself, Varith or T'Mirek, but I have spent my whole life surrounded by logic extremists and I am capable of distinguishing them apart from common Surak's followers. Their purpose to be on Earth remains unclear to this date, but I am committed to find the truth. It does not differ in any way to my hometown's temple and I have noticed that not everyone is allowed to enter."_

The next page was a messy sketch of an unknown Vulcan man with no further annotations. He examined his face and assumed he should be someone Velekh had known or grew with, because the next page was a drawing in great detail of a place from Velekh's birthplace, the temple he had mentioned attend during his early life years. It was beautifully designed, the details of the façade were carefully made and resembled so much the Awakening time architectural style, but was an election made on purpose, not even one hundred years had passed since the construction.

_"Humans' open display of emotion still feels unsettling for me. I have chosen to stop cutting my hair to honor Surak. I am still a follower of his teachings, but Vulcans who I do not desire to be associated with wear it proudly while…"_

He remembered the day Velekh showed up at work with a poorly executed short haircut for everyone's awe and gave no explanation. He had supposed he wanted to fit in. Quite often, Velekh wandered into keeping the traditional bowl cut or shaving his head, until he finally opted to keep it.

He continued to read _: "T'Mirek and Varith have invited me to take dinner together to celebrate six months since my arrival to this planet. I have refused, not because I feel is unworthy of celebration, but I am experimenting powerful emotions I do not feel comfortable sharing with them… for now. All I can think of is in those children whose lives were taken away today in a successful bomb attack in Terran Moon's institute of languages where kids from different planets, attended in order to acquire tools that were going to facilitate their interaction with individuals from other species, an opportunity I was denied when I was a child. I have heard the holovideo in the news before the bomber committed suicide and I think I knew him. I believe I recognized his voice"._

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

"Did you find where's Velekh?" asked T'Mirek when she arrived to the place, holding a coffee in her hand.

Varith couldn't avoid to thinking how human she resembled to his side. T'Mirek had arrived to Earth at the same time, but she had blended more smoothly than him into human society. She was like every other human, but with pointy ears and telepathic abilities.

"No, his neighbor said he does not know."

Varith found himself, concealing the information he had read from Velekh's journal last night because he was uncertain what all that really meant. The journal had tons of still unread pages he needed to examine before jump into conclusions, realizing that he just had learned that Velekh was struggling and mentally in an odd place, but nothing was essentially different from the other times he ran away.

"What do you think? It's been a month. He never took a whole month away and he was always in his apartment when you went after him. Except that time when he got lost," she said.

Varith didn't know what he should think about it. Suddenly, the probability that Velekh might have committed suicide came to his mind and he felt horrified. He just acknowledged that Velekh lived in a paranoid alert state where he was constantly seeing logic extremists around him. No one wasn't certain if Velekh, in indeed, had seen them in a temple that Varith never cared to personally visit himself. But he noticed how the younger Vulcan had slowly fallen into a void of loneliness and said nothing to not force him to speak about something he didn't want to.

Perhaps, he should have spoken with him.

"I do not know," he said. "I… I think he is still adapting to Earth."

"Hum."

"Is there something you want to say?"

"No, I'm just rambling," she admitted with a half-smile in her face. She looked at the temple and then, her eyes came back to Varith's to add, "Things are slowly changing. I thought we would be dead when something actually began to change in Vulcan. I never believed I would hear that someone from the most Vulcan family of Surak's followers on the whole planet would marry a human. _A human. W_ e all know how low our people rate humans as potential mates. That means something."

"Vulcans taking human mates is not a novelty."

It wasn't. He had seen a countless amount of Vulcans engaging in romantic relationships with humans in his twenty-three years on Earth, so T'Mirek's enthusiasm was unexpected.

"Do you think I don't know that? I _know_. A lot of the people we helped to leave Vulcan are here or out there because of that. I get it, but… Ambassador Sarek's still an ambassador after that. He didn't lose his position, he wasn't publicly disowned and he wasn't kicked out of Vulcan. So, in some way, the elders that kicked us from our own planet had to shut the fuck up and I'm living for it!" she replied, laughing loudly and Varith couldn't believe she was the same person with whom he escaped Vulcan two decades before.

She often remarked how Vulcan, she used to be. Swearing was something probably both of them never thought T'Mirek would engage in.

"Those extremist bastards must be bursting with _logical_ rage for sure. I'd love to be there to see Balev's face when he found out Councilman's son just did exactly what, he and his bunch of enraged Surak's fan boys hate. He spent years and years saying how Surak-honoring that family was and, _oh, surprise!_ I guess he's gonna have to throw away the altar, he surely has, of Councilman Skon."

"I am surprised too, but I do not think that he will… What is the Terran expression? 'come out clean'. He has taken a side and I am certain that the logic extremists are not pleased, being who he is."

"I read your article and you're right. So we agree on that."

The temple Velekh spoke in his journal was close to them that he could see the building from the third floor window in the mall. He had passed the time watching that place through the window before T'Mirek's arrival, filled with lots of unanswered questions he didn't even know how to formulate.

The building was surrounded by an extensive amount of concrete, he never found that details as odd, but Velekh's notes about logic extremists there brought a new light to that design decision. It seemed like they wanted little to do with native citizens and locals as much as possible to avoid their illogical way of living. That was pure speculation, he wasn't certain and, for some reason, he was inclined to think that neither Velekh.

"Have you ever been on the local temple, T'Mirek?"

"The temple that is just behind us? No, I do not need to meditate anymore to keep my emotions in check," she replied, gesturing to the place and sipped her cold coffee. "What does that have to do with Velekh?"

"Nothing, I just was curious. It's been a long time since I visited one."

"If you wanna go, not today, please. I don't think they'll like my 'logically bitching' T-shirt."

Varith exchanged looks with her and nodded. He didn't have any intention to walk into a building full of Vulcans who would disprove his existence.

"I think Velekh will come back, don't worry. You said he was sending the work from wherever he is, don't you? He just recently stopped, so I think that he's resting a little bit. I don't think this is different from the other ones, Varith. You're acting like a worried Vulcan dad without the threats of disowning, of course," said the Vulcan woman and smiled to convey calm.

He sipped his drink.

She had a point. Velekh was like the little brother he never had. He resembled so scared upon his arrival and teaching him the ways of the earth was like a telling himself he had left Vulcan for good.

The deafening sound after a deep grayish cloud of smoke coming out of the Vulcan temple at the distance attracted everyone's attention. In a less than a minute, all the people were looking through the enormous crystal clear floor-to-ceiling windows, astonished and appalled to witness the smoke rising without saying a single word. The temple was not close enough to feel threatened by collateral damages, but was visible from the position.

" _What the hell was that?_ "

The shock filled voice of T'Mirek wasn't enough to make him react. He felt incapable of moving from his place, he blinked to recover composure and slowly turned his eyes to his friend, adding in a shaky voice, "I do not know."

T'Mirek dragged a shocked Varith all the way out, when the security guards at the mall asked everyone to leave immediately.

Meanwhile the stores were quickly closing and the mostly human passersby were murmuring loudly about the incident and speculating. His mind was a disaster, he saw himself walking along T'Mirek, but his head was far away from that place. How many years had passed since he had witnessed an explosion? He realized he was shaking uncontrollably, evoking the most horrible memories he had experienced back in his native planet, the poorly concealed fear of the survivors and the smell of burning flesh covered in ashes and dust.

If Velekh wasn't mistaken and they were on Earth, then... _Where was Velekh?_


	3. Unwanted Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda is worried about Sarek's upcoming departure. He is conflicted about his own people and the illogical reactions to a personal decision.
> 
> Varith tries to understand a little more about Velekh's state of mind before his disappearance. T'Mirek is skeptical about Varith's approach to the situation.

Amanda and Sarek's marriage filled all kinds of tabloids and magazines across the galaxy as soon as the news went public.

All sorts of people didn't hesitate to share their opinion on the matter.

Amanda quickly comprehended how ill-intended and cruel could be the public scrutiny.

She spent hours reading articles and opinions in her PADD, that often critiqued her fashion choices, using unappealing pictures of bad angles, questioned her sanity while alleging incompatibility between them as a couple by over-analyzing all their public appearances or affirming that Sarek had a human fetish and married her only to challenge his conservative family.

She had barely concealed the imperious need to localize her ex-classmate Mia Grant and punch her in the face for accepting money for an interview full of lies and made up stories about her, portraying her as a crazy Vulcanophile stalker.

Sarek was less appalled than her by the unwanted attention from strangers.

Of course, he was Vulcan and had grown up surrounded by strangers talking about his family from childhood.

She had even downloaded a bunch of pictures she had found in an article about Sarek's family, only because she knew she wouldn't get any cute pictures of a toddler Sarek from him.

"Remember the obnoxious girl I was always complaining about when I attended college? Well, she's back and trash talking me to the galaxy to see!" Amanda stated upset. She never gave any reason to be publicly berated by anyone and Mia surely knew that, but didn't care.

"Their opinion should not be a source of distress for us, _ashayam_ ," Sarek said sending comfort through their bond. Amanda turned to see him and smiled, but he noticed the concern in her eyes as she reached for his hand, while conveying peace to herself.

"It is me," he pointed out, once the PADD screen saver revealed itself when Sarek accidentally touched it.

"I found the picture in an article. Probably the only one I read that doesn't say that you're a weird fetishist or I'm a gold digger," Amanda said, her cheeks, deep flushed to be caught and acknowledge that it was the sort of behavior Mia had spoken about in The Terran Times. "Does it bother you?"

"No."

"How old were you in this picture?"

"I was seven years old and Silek, my brother, was thirteen. This photography was taken at the Andorian festival of winter. My father was invited by the Vulcan Ambassador to Andoria at the time, who was a close friend of his," Sarek explained, examining the photo in detail while Amanda stared in silence as she recognized subtle melancholy in his eyes, not so sure what to say next. "Ambassador's son turned out to be a V'tosh Ka'tur and my father took his expelling from Vulcan as a warning to take special attention to his own children."

"A what?"

"V'tosh Ka'tur," Sarek corrected, "A Vulcan who does not follow Surak's teachings traditionally, most of them have not abandoned logic completely, but decide to embrace emotions as humans do."

Amanda stayed silent for a brief moment.

Sarek was due to leave earth for a meeting in Vulcan, that was the last day before leaving to a diplomatic trip.

Amanda was, logically, worried for his safety. She had tried to keep her emotions and concerns for herself, but Sarek's upcoming departure to a planet full with dangerous and crazy extremists who had recently voiced out loud how un-Vulcan Sarek was for marrying her did impossible to not worry about it.

"For how long you'll be gone?"

"I will be arriving in three days. My presence is required there. My father said the Ambassador will not talk with anyone else."

That was clearly an evasive reply, but Amanda decided to not ask again.

"I'll miss you."

"Something is troubling you, Amanda," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes were focused on her and she felt exposed. She had forgotten to conceal her emotions and dripped through their bond.

Amanda was overwhelmed by the unsolicited attention from mean strangers, but the cruel comments about her physical appearance or lack of fashion sense didn't scare her in the slightest as the reaction from people who were actually _dangerous_.

She hadn't heard of logic extremism before the children's Terran Moon's institute attack and her fear only increased when two days ago the only Vulcan temple in San Francisco exploited and burned to ashes with all those Vulcans inside.

"Speak your mind, Amanda."

She stood from the couch, Sarek followed her with the gaze in silence, waiting to hear her words.

"I'm afraid, Sarek. I'm afraid for your safety."

"Amanda—"

"You know that I'm not being illogical," she said staring at him directly.

Both of them _knew_ that.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek turned on his PADD.

He was bored and after a long day inside the shuttle doing virtually nothing at all, he was longing for entertainment.

Amanda stayed on Earth and he did not find very logical to ask her to travel to Vulcan with him. Specially, since she was distressed for the Vulcan extremists' attacks newly reported that she thought—for some reason— were a warning to him for marrying a human. Scott Langdon was his assistant and only companion after the security team. They would reach the planet in one point five standard days and he was already sick of the space.

Assuring he had not thought about the collective response of the whole galaxy about his relationship and marriage with Amanda was a misguided assumption.

Sarek had spent even more time than Amanda thinking about the matter. He had considered and successfully predicted with accuracy the public reaction, which was not exactly difficult considering the status of his people in the galaxy's eyes.

Interspecies relationships weren't exactly a novelty, since the founding of The Federation. As the years went by, the galaxy slowly became a smaller place and interplanetary interaction quickly wrapped individuals closer and closer.

As the child of an Ambassador, Sarek had travelled across the galaxy, he had been close to all kinds of individuals, cultures and different environments where he often, witnessed practices, beliefs and associations between people who resembled nothing the ones in Vulcan.

Vulcans were always apart and Amanda, as well as other people he had met, pointed out the Vulcan tendency to gather among themselves and remain inaccessible to the exterior.

Frequently, such a course of action was perceived as a gesture of hostility and arrogance on their behalf. As the years went by, Sarek understood why they perceived their demeanor as unfriendly.

His own relatives displayed a similar behavior to let him know that they didn't support his chosen mate. They didn't voice any of their views, even his mother remained cold and distant while giving him an ultimatum to desist with his intentions to marry Amanda.

He was aware Vulcans could be as judgmental as any other species, only their delivery was less passionate, they weren't the kind of individuals who would yell in someone's face about how that move was a huge mistake, they would only cut off the dishonoring member of the family and pretend never existed.

No tabloid on Earth commented with the same vehemence the marriage of the Terran Ambassador to an Andorian woman as they did with Sarek's.

The tone was utterly opposite, much more friendly and positive.

The media portrayed his colleague as ' _a successful and_ _charming_ ' man, his wife as a ' _classy and lovely, educated_ ' woman and their wedding as ' _a magical event that would bring Andoria and Earth closer than ever_ '. Meanwhile the same writer would surely have related articles making fun of Amanda for meaningless things going as far as to compare her with the Terran Ambassador's wife.

Regardless, the intergalactic press' backlash was a minor nuisance, an expectable one.

The true concern around the entire situation for Sarek started when treacherous groups of people started to show their disagreement publicly. Sarek could deal the ruthless mockery to his person, those click bait head titles affirming he was a prominent fetishist or the speculations about him turning into a discreet kind of V'tosh Ka'tur were idle talking, when said by non-Vulcan individuals. Shortly after the news reached his native planet, another type of reactions showed up; threats, collected bigotry and general disapproval from the most traditional environments.

Vulcans displayed their disapproval in a more civilized manner at the beginning, but after a few weeks, the inherent volatility Vulcans struggled to control manifested, loud and clear to the galaxy to see. Conceal the shock he felt once the logic extremist leader, Balev, gave a public speech questioning his capability of representing Vulcan among foreigners with poorly masked disgust to his actions was one of those times when he truly felt uncertainty for the future, for Amanda's well-being and for his own.

Despite disagreeing with Balev's assessment about his ability to fully comply with the work as an Ambassador, his words made Sarek reconsider his future along Amanda and question himself if he was willing to risk his beloved Amanda's security by retaining his position as the acting Vulcan Ambassador to Earth.

His plan to move to Vulcan had delayed as a result of the rise of the logic extremism inside Vulcan. He had bought a house in Shi'kahr not so long after they got engaged, but before he could even consult Amanda about the matter, his hometown was awakening covered in hateful art towards him calling him a _traitor_ or an undercover V'tosh Ka'tur.

Therefore, when they finally arrived in Vulcan, the planet that it was supposed to be his home world, he felt not only the heat in his face, but the silent hostility of his own kind, daring him to prove he was still on their side, that he was still one of them.

"Ambassador," The driver said in Vulcan. "We are due to arrive at the Galaxy Inn in three minutes."

Sarek nodded, repressing the nervousness in the pit of the stomach.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

"…We _have allowed emotional beings to influence our way of living. Many Vulcan fellows have been_ _directly affected by the illogical views and the indulgence of emotionalism, encouraged to leave behind the traditions, custom and manners that have guided us for over five hundred years. The effort Surak made to teach us the ways of logic and emotional repression as a tool for societal betterment, a tool that ended wars and brought stability to our planet, is being threatened by the V'tosh Ka'tur movement._

_Until today, the V'tosh Ka'tur movement was successfully removed from Vulcan, our planet was free of the associates of this harmful cause. Nonetheless, at the beginning of the current year, the news of the bonding ceremony of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth with a human woman reached our planet. A decision that resembles so much the illogical choices that self-acknowledged V'tosh Ka'tur —who have no place in Vulcan society—, made in the past. Vulcans who take human mates is a phenomenon that is neither new nor unusual in the times we live in. Times, where the failed experiment that is The Federation, has gained more power we ever should allow to into Vulcan policy-making processes._

_The corruption of traditional values and biased logic favoring detrimental decisions, is rapidly spreading among the younger generations, as we have witnessed time and time again. Ambassador Sarek is a member of one of the oldest families on Vulcan who directly descent from Surak, and foremost, he an active representative of our planet to the exterior._

_Is this the way we agree to be represented as a species in front of the galaxy?_

_Is he, a Vulcan male who personally engages with emotional beings while proclaiming to follow Surak's teachings, an accurate envoy?_

_Is Ambassador Sarek even compromised with what it implies to be a true Vulcan? He has become too enamored of the human race. He has spent too much among them and their planet to understand what his bonding ceremony with a human implies for all Vulcans._

_The V'tosh Ka'tur movement celebrating this event, taking it as a standard-bearer to validate their erroneous interpretation of Surak's teachings...it is something we cannot longer classify as acceptable..."_ said the Vulcan man, whose name was Balev, according to the site.

She examined his face and his demeanor, concluding that he was like every other Vulcan she had ever met.

The fact that he resembled collected, cold and formal while spiting that hateful speech was terrifying in her eyes. She almost believed that he was somehow, civilized.

Sarek was off-world.

She had stayed inside their shared house in San Francisco with the head full of unpleasant images of terrible scenarios where Sarek was killed in Vulcan by a logic extremist.

She had barely slept during the past week, partially due to her inability to not dream Sarek dying in one hundred different ways and her need for more information. She had stayed up reading and searching for information about logic extremism in every language she knew, scrolling through countless news articles, propaganda, _holo_ videos of them speaking about topics like Vulcan nature, interspecies relationships or the Federation, which was often depicted as a 'failed experiment', pictures of deceased perpetrators and their tragic accomplishments.

She was astonished, _horrified_.

Was hate logical? What about the 'infinite diversity in infinite combinations' principle?

The delivery certainly differed from other similar groups, but the hateful statements were still hateful no matter if the speaker screamed vehemently to a hysterical audience or were recited with a matter-of-factly expression, big words to add a sense of civility to the speech and a monotone lifeless voice.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Varith was again in Velekh's apartment.

He had been craving to go there for an entire week. He had even lost concentration at work thinking about Velekh's whereabouts and the horrible incident.

A week after the explosion inside the local temple, he was back searching for Velekh, despite T'Mirek insistence in that he was okay and would be back when he was ready. Nonetheless, Varith wasn't sure about that. Not considering all the differences with his previous escapades.

" _…Balev talked about Ambassador Sarek today. He casts doubt on the Ambassador's capacity to serve as a diplomat and a representative of our planet. Irrelevant to say his assessment is biased and judgmental. Nonetheless, when he has called into question the kind of representation Ambassador Sarek portrays to the galaxy, I could not prevent myself to analyze Balev's behavior, applying the same parameters._

_Is this the way we agree to be represented as a species in front of the galaxy?_

_Is he, a Vulcan who openly disregards the IDIC principle, an accurate spokesman for us?"_

He stopped to read.

Velekh's thoughts were beginning to go under his skin. He was just like him for a long time before adapting to Earth and leaving behind his past.

Prying on Velekh's personal journal and belongings was not exactly ethical, but he was beginning to think he was missing.

T'Mirek didn't want to admit it, but both knew that this time differed the other times Velekh had ran away.

The timing was odd and he didn't show any hint of distress. Velekh was focused on his work and doing well, so his sudden disappearance was unusual.

The loud sound of the main door opening drew his attention out of the journal.

"I thought you would be here," T'Mirek said entering the apartment, putting a brownish paper bag with an alien script. "Are you hungry? I bought Andorian food from a new place crossing the street."

He was cross-legged in the dusty red rug on the floor, T'Mirek was standing in the doorframe, glancing around and silently astonished by the amount of paper taped to the wall all over the room.

"What's this?"

"I am cleaning the apartment and Cat needed to be fed," Varith replied.

T'Mirek lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, resembling more severe than usual.

"Oh! Really? That's interesting because I just saw the neighbor holding Velekh's cat in the hall. Unless he had an identical one. Also, this place is dusty and Cat's bowls are empty," T'Mirek said acerbic with her arms crossed on her chest. "What's going on, Varith?"

"I believe that Velekh knew—"

"Varith, _no_. Not again, I can't go back when we were all scared thinking about the logic jerks all the time. I won't and you shouldn't too," she snapped, breathing heavily before adding, "Velekh was seeing things that were _not_ there, ok? He told me about the logic extremists at the temple, and I believed him. We were there and I sat on a bench for six hours with him, but I didn't see anything. There were none. Not even one of them."

"T'Mirek, perhaps…"

Varith closed his mouth, recognizing a mixture of distress and annoyance in her expression.

She exhaled searching for calm.

"No, _this_ ," she waved her arms gesturing the whole room covered in paper, clippings and pictures out of context, "All of this is absolutely paranoid. You and I know pretty damn well, that this is not the way they work, Varith. They don't gather publicly in a planet full of people they can't stand. No, they just show up and do their thing."

"I—"

"Do you really think they blew up the temple?" she ranted, gulping and walking to the kitchen counter, frenetically taking the food containers out of the bag. "If he was right, then that temple was 'their' place…Why on Earth they would bomb their _own_ people? What is the logic in that?"

"There is none," Varith replied slowly, blinking and partially absent-minded.

"Exactly. Now, let's eat. The comments on the internet say this place is good, so we better eat it because it wasn't cheap."

_She was right._

Naturally, a question emerged as a result of that asseveration; If the logic extremists weren't responsible for the bombing attack on the temple, then _who_ was? And why? The images he had seen about the attack were stuck in his head. The whole topic was troubling him more than he would like to.

"Tomorrow I'll file a police report." Announced the woman with a heavy sigh, when she turned around to handle plates from the shelf.

"What?"

She took a seat at the kitchen counter.

"Velekh's not okay…mentally. We failed to help him, and I should've done something about it, both of us. He was seeing logic extremists everywhere and we did nothing," explained T'Mirek serving more Andorian vegetable stew in her plate, she was visibly upset. "Wherever he is, he's not of sound mind."


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varith and T'Mirek go to the authorities to report their friend's disappearance.
> 
> Sarek's human assistant meets Varek, his new co-worker, and things are awkward.
> 
> Sarek receives advice from a colleague.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and to faerieMagic07 for leaving a comment :)

“Let me get this straight. Your friend, who’s not in his best mental state, has been lost for over a month, and you didn’t report it to the police until now? Am I right?”

T’Mirek and Varith were at the local police station to file a report on Velekh’s disappearance.

Things were not going as they intended.

The officer who was taking their declaration was willing to laugh at them instead of offering any help. 

“Yes.”

“Very _logical_ ,” The police officer said writing in his PADD and holding back his laugh. “And y’all say we’re the illogical ones.”

“Uhm.”

“Are you gonna’ help us or not?”

“ _Yup_. Can you tell me his name again?”

“For the sixth time: Velekh,” reiterated T’Mirek, visibly annoyed with the man.

Despite the obvious mocking tone, the human officer was right. They should have done something about it way before.

Thinking about Velekh was depressing.

Varith had expected he would eventually get used to his new life on earth, as a Terran citizen and a V’tosh Ka’tur. He was making so much progress, he was willing to learn and to listen to the diverse ways of the galaxy. His escapades started to be shorter and less frequent than at the beginning.

“B-E-L-E-C or B-E-L-E-C-K?”

“V-E-L-E-K-H.”

“ _Velekh_. Got it.” The officer finished writing in his PADD and looked at them. “Are you sure he’s missing? It took you a month to report it, so…”

“Officer, we—”

“Look, he’s an adult. He’s twenty-one, and he has right to go wherever he wants. This is a free planet. I _dunno_ how things are in Vulcan, but this is Earth. We don’t control people,” the man said matter-of-factly. Which made T’Mirek consider violence as a valid response to that statement.

“Can I speak with someone else, _sir_?”

“T’Mirek—”

“I will speak with another person, this guy is mocking us,” she said in Vulcan to Varith who just nodded.

“How can I help you?” The voice of an unknown man interrupted the conversation.

He was holding a cup of coffee and T’Mirek directly turned to speak with him, ignoring the officer.

Varith stared at the man for a brief moment, his expression resembled kind and joyful, which was comforting.

“I can handle it, Wallace,” said the officer behind the counter.

“Hello, I’m Detective Drew Wallace,” the man introduced himself.

“Whatever, I need a more coffee, anyways,” said the officer leaving for another room to fill his cup.

“Thank you. We want to report a missing person,” T’Mirek explained, exchanging looks with Varith who was rambling about the entire situation, not so sure what to think about it.

“Okay, this way. You’ll need to answer a few questions,” Detective Wallace indicated.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

“First of all, what kind of relationship you share with the missing person?”

“We’re friends.”

The human wrote something in his PADD for what felt like an eternity for Varith and T’Mirek.

“Can you write here the name of your friend?” Detective Wallace said handling his PADD to them.

T’Mirek accepted it and quickly wrote Velekh’s full name using Standard alphabet and Vulcan script bellow.

“Do you have any picture of your friend?”

“Yes,” Varith said, giving him a folder with printed pictures of Velekh he had taken during a celebration for his first four months on Earth.

“Okay, I’ll need that.”

“Does he have any particular sign, tattoos, piercings, birthmarks?”

“Hum… actually yes, he has a tattoo in Vulcan script of the IDIC in his inner left arm,” T’Mirek answered. Varith reacted mildly surprised, and she smiled nervously, because the detective was watching the exchange.

“Really?”

“He got it the same day I got this,” she said, pulling her sleeve to show him a tattoo depicting a colorful Terran flower.

The human exhaled and decided to continue his questioning, “When was the last time did you see him?”

“It’s complicated,” T’Mirek said with a shrug. “The reason we didn’t report it before it was because we thought he was inside his apartment like the other times.”

“Can you explain to me what's that supposed to mean?”

“Velekh, our friend, recently arrived to Earth. As you can see, Detective Wallace, we are not fundamentalist Vulcans,” interjected Varith looking at T’Mirek. “We are V’tosh Ka’tur.”

“Velekh was struggling to leave behind his past life and, often ran away. Not like leaving the city, just… Not showing up at work or not answering our calls, but every single time we went after him he was inside his apartment.”

“I see,” The detective stayed silence, observing Velekh’s picture and added, “So… I guess you thought this was like the other times, right?”

“Precisely.”

“Did you know if he was in danger or if he had any other motive behind these episodes aside from stress?”

“Yes.”

“No, he wasn’t,” T’Mirek said, raising her voice a bit, glancing at Varith and shaking her head.

“I can’t be helpful is you conceal things from me. I’ll ask you again, was Velekh in any danger for some reason?”

“No, he…” Varith stammered, uncertain in how to word what it was happening to Velekh. “I don’t think so… he was seeing _ghosts_.”

He instantly regretted using that word to describe Velekh’s paranoia.

“ _Ghosts_? Was he ever diagnosed with any condition I should know about?” The detective glanced at them in utter disbelief, moving nervously his stylus as he thought what to say next.

“No.”

“Detective, he wasn’t in his best mental state. We failed to do anything in that regard to help him. Varith and I didn’t want to force him to speak about something that it was very likely Velekh was not ready to,” T’Mirek explained. “He was experimenting paranoia. He believed that dangerous people were here in San Francisco.”

“Did he mention if someone was after him?”

“No, and I don’t believe it was an actual possibility.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well…”

“Do you think that he could be right in some way? Have you ever confirmed or not this?” the detective interrupted, inquisitive playing with the stylus in his hand.

“No.”

“So, you don’t know if he was in actual danger?”

The fact that T’Mirek refused to explicitly speak about logic the extremists that Velekh assured were around the city, was revealing. They may have left Vulcan decades ago, but the reality was that in some ways, they hadn’t left behind what exactly pushed them to leave. 

“No, I mean… We _know_ he was mistaken.”

“Okay.”

Voicing it brought the whole situation to a new light, the guilt immediately hit him as he recognized his lack of effort in making Velekh’s arrival to Earth as a less traumatic experience.

“For me, that means we could be searching for a person who’s not of sound mind.”

Varith nodded in silence and T’Mirek patted his shoulder to convey calm.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

As the personal assistant of Ambassador Sarek, Scott Langdon had been in many odd dynamics and had witnessed an incalculable amount of unconventional situations.

However, he was certain that very precise situation was the most annoying of all.

“ _Ambassador Sarek has requested your cooperation by informing me further about your work dynamic and schedule_ ,” the young Vulcan had said once Scott opened the door of the hotel room he was assigned during his first night in Vulcan.

The entire floor was emptied and closed just for the Ambassador, which wasn’t exactly something new during those kinds of diplomatic trips.

Varek, Sarek’s new aide was probably one of the most condescending and annoying beings he had ever met or, at least, it was in his top three.

Ambassador Sarek had said he would be integrating to the team, and he would have to work really close to him. That it was not a problem, but the guy seemed to think he was superior to him.

The very first week trapped in Vulcan, waiting for a foreign ambassador who apparently was taking too much time to attend a meeting that had specifically requested with Sarek, had been a nightmare. Not because of the schedule or the weather. For some reason, they had been attending all kinds of pointless social events, which was beyond boring and adding the arrogant, bothersome presence of Varek, things were worse.

He had his own theories, as the result of his increasing boredom and curiosity.

Varek was not like any other Vulcan, he was different.

Of course, by the exterior he was exactly like the average Vulcan, young man of his age, but something in his demeanor and attitude did tell him apart from others. Despite both of them were twenty-six years old, Scott had the impression that he had never been off-world in his whole life and that he was very appalled by Sarek’s vast experience.

‘Appalled’ was not enough to describe the not-so-subtle fascination Varek seemed to extend to Ambassador Sarek in such short lapse of time, which was a pretty un-Vulcan behavior in his opinion. It was not like only a deep respect for his achievements, career or position as a representative of Vulcan to the exterior.

The human was willing to bet his life that Varek craved to be around Sarek for other motives aside from work. It was extremely odd, almost amusing, but still there was a small strain of something he was not able to identify that it was alarming in Varek’s demeanor.

The only thing he was certain about his new Vulcan co-worker was that he was way too creepy. Therefore, it would be wise on his behalf to not mess with him. That and the fact, that he was three times stronger than him.

“Good morning, Varek,” Scott said as a mere formality when the Vulcan appeared in sight in the lobby, waiting for Ambassador Sarek.

Varek looked at Scott for an uncomfortable minute and say nothing, just kept staring with coldness in his dark eyes.

_Has he had to be that hostile towards him? What was his problem?_

Ambassador Sarek joined them in the lobby not so long after.

He was wearing a dark and long blue formal Vulcan robe, decorated with a small shiny pin depicting the Vulcan word for ‘Ambassador’ in a lavish golden font.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” said Varek and even Scott could point out a strain of excitement in his monotone.

“Good morning.”

“Ambassador—”

“The transportation vehicle has arrived. We are ready to depart,” interrupted Varek walking to the entrance along Sarek.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek was irritated for an unknown reason.

His head was pounding, and he thought he might have a migraine, because the past three days the light felt unbearable to his eyes. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep for the rest of his lifetime. Unfortunately, it was not possible the time being.

His new aide had informed that he had to attend a social gathering at the local Andorian embassy. As a novel Ambassador, his colleagues were naturally interested in getting to know him.

He had barely eaten a few bites of an oatmeal snack, because lately he felt incapable of swallowing more than that without vomiting. He had been so close to throw up during the dinner that the Tellarite Ambassador to Vulcan offered three standard days ago. Chewing and successfully swallowing down his throat the vegetarian stew they offered to him, was one of the hardest tasks he had to complete as a diplomat.

The trip from the Galaxy Inn to the Andorian embassy was beyond boring.

Looking through the window and, recognizing locations of the place he had spent the early years of his childhood, didn’t feel as comfortable as it should. Shi’kahr was his birthplace. There it was located the house he grew up in and was the current city his whole family resided, but something was missing in his eyes. It was illogical to resent the actions of his family, but he could not prevent himself to feel conflicted in regard to the situation. Sarek hadn’t voiced his thoughts and was really ambiguous when Amanda asked about his family. Replying that they were never close, and she didn’t question further after that. When the reality was that they had basically cut him off, and he was told he could only come back when his tantrum was over.

For some reason, they thought he was marrying Amanda to challenge them for the Vulcan Diplomatic Service conflict prior his forced assignment to Earth. 

“We have arrived, Ambassador,” the soft voice of Varek brought him back to the present.

Andorian Ambassador Jharaah was an intriguing woman, intelligent, assertive and straightforward when it was required. She was highly respected as a diplomat inside and outside of her native planet. She had served an Ambassador for so many years in a plethora of planets and worked close to Vulcans great part of her career. Therefore, she was the adequate and logical envoy from Andoria to Vulcan. Sarek was aware she wasn’t the kind of person who would extend an invitation for no reason. Even though, her intentions remained unclear, but he was certain she would have a meaningful purpose behind.

“Ambassador Sarek, welcome,” greeted the woman offering the ta’al with a subtle smirk in her expression.

“Ambassador Jharaah.” The woman gestured the way and started to walk, they were slowly passing a long hall with blue tint windows, Sarek knew she wanted to talk while touring the embassy, he was tired but tried to look as normal as usual.

“I apologize in advance for not have any official or meaningful matter to speak with you, Ambassador. I feel I need to know my colleagues and when I learned you would be in Vulcan; I couldn’t resist to take the opportunity.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Jharaah.”

The woman smiled, but didn’t return the compliment.

“The galaxy is taking huge steps these days, Ambassador. Especially when it comes to the Federation and Vulcan. My native planet, yours and earth are really close as you already know,” she started with the subtle smile forming on her lips as she spoke, “I have always thought it takes a very exceptional Vulcan to serve in the Diplomatic Service. Councilman Skon and Ambassador Solkar are two widely known examples of that, two Vulcans who gained the utmost respect of the galaxy and most importantly, the respect of their home world.”

“I am aware,” Sarek said dryly.

Sarek glanced upward and continued to walk silently to her side.

Ambassador Jharaah was much more taller than he was.

The mention of members of his family was unusual and not welcomed. He had lost communication with most of them when he informed them he would bond with Amanda. 

“I still remember when I invited your father, Ambassador Skon at the time, to the Federation’s day festival in Andoria, you were only a baby amazed by the insignificant things of life. It is no surprise to me to know you would choose a similar path and I always saw more ambassadorial inclinations in you than in Silek.”

Hearing his older brother's name was something Sarek didn’t like in the slightest. Silek had chosen to side with his mother in cutting off any communications with him. Until he decided to come back home and follow what they defined as the proper way to elect a suitable mate. Also, Silek had brought back the fact he had delayed his application for the Diplomatic Service to pursue a career in the science field at the Vulcan Science Academy, going again Skon’s plans for both. He reiterated how illogical and childish he acted and called his intentions to marry Amanda as another deliberate attempt to seek for rebelliousness. He abstained to make any gesture to let know that detail to Ambassador Jharaah.

“I enjoy being informed about what befalls all over the galaxy. As an Ambassador is mandatory. Have you come across the news?”

Sarek took a moment to think about it and nodded, glancing around the beautiful traditional Andorian styled decorations of the place.

“Certainly.”

“As you may know, the Terran Ambassador to Vulcan married an Andorian woman. Of course, the press and public reaction has been more benevolent to them than to you and Mrs. Grayson.”

Discussing the media’s inclination for gossiping about his personal preferences and Amanda’s fashion sense, was not exactly a topic he was eager to talk with a colleague.

“The public opinion is not a concern for us,” Sarek quickly answered.

Jharaah offered him a look of disbelief and exhaled. Which annoyed Sarek more than a simple action as such, should ever bother him. The intergalactic press had reported their marriage in the vilest and ill-intentioned way he ever saw in his lifetime. Those xenophobic articles blaming him of setting an example for the Terran Ambassador to Andoria didn’t go unnoticed.

“As is expected. The media and the public often enjoy commenting other’s personal lives very shamelessly, but is pretty harmless at the end of the day. It’s only gossip for the sake of the entertainment of the masses, quickly fades away with the time or when the next scandal comes up. It’s the natural order,” replied Jharaah in a soft voice and Sarek thought she was being condescending to him, like if he had spent his entire life living in a different reality, and she needed to explain the way it functioned the galaxy. “I, personally, see this event a watershed in our history. Nonetheless, not every person shares my views, especially in this matter.”

Sarek blinked, confused. He had an idea of what she wanted to say, but had nothing to add.

“Logic extremists blame you for this. They believe your bonding ceremony is setting an example to other diplomats out there. I agree on that, but we differ in if this is positive or not. Of course, they aren’t pleased by the recent events, an expectable reaction on their behalf.”

“Hum.”

“For sure, we all know that interspecies relationships have been happening for a very long time, but high profile personalities engaging publicly in the practice it’s definitely a novelty.”

“It is unclear what it the purpose of bring my bonding ceremony and logic extremists in the same conversation,” Sarek said.

“Vulcan feels threatened by what you did, Sarek. We all know about Vulcans rejecting the traditional values in different levels. The so called V’tosh ka’tur movement is something that existed before I was even born. They recently got named, but isn’t new at all.”

“Disagreement is an expectable consequence in every decision that is taken, Ambassador. I considered all variables when I took my decision,” he replied.

“Very brave of you, both of you, actually.”

“Pardon?”

Ambassador Jharaah stopped and looked down, directly to Sarek’s clear eyes with kindness, but still radiating condescendence towards him.

“Mrs. Grayson is a lovely woman… The entire galaxy agrees that she doesn’t fully comprehend exactly what she has signed for with this marriage, but I believe that you either,” the woman assured, confident in her words which bothered Sarek.

He was not an oblivious child as his family and, apparently, external individuals as Ambassador Jharaah wanted to believe. Marrying a human was a conscious decision, he was aware of how the entire galaxy would react to it and did it anyway. 

“Is this a lecture to discuss my personal affairs?”

“Oh, no! Not at all,” she waved her hands, dismissing that assessment, “I wouldn’t lose my time in idle chatter. I’m a diplomat not some ill-intentioned columnist.”

Sarek nodded and Jharaah took it as a signal to continue her speech, “Logic extremists are not pleased in the least, but who expected them to agree? No one is surprised, but they have declared their intentions and seems like no one paid attention,” she laughed only to Sarek to hear, “ _Logic advocates_ , that is how they call them. But we all know their extremists, right?”

“I classify their assessment as irrelevant. Balev’s views are not a concern for me.”

“Don’t you see it? That’s denialism at its finest,” she added with an ambiguous tone. “Balev is not just a lonely man with xenophobic views typing in a basement. He’s not like any other people that have criticized your personal decisions, Ambassador. You fail to take him as the threat he is to you, your planet and your people.”

“I disagree.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Balev's speech is a declaration of war in my opinion. He finds the V’tosh Ka’tur movement and its associates as despicable for say the least. They go against all he believes, as the only and unique, proper way of living, but the main difference between the V’tosh Ka’tur and you married to a human is that he knows that there is no person in the entire galaxy that would put him in the same category as a V’tosh Ka’tur. He and his cult are fully aware that they are entirely apart from them. It doesn’t matter how many drawings, articles and parodies the V’tosh Ka’tur make to mock him, you are still a major traitor than them in his eyes and that is because you represent them in front the entire universe. You are that extraordinary threat he has been talking about for so long.”

Sarek took a moment to process the information.

Jharaah examined him with inquisitive eyes, and he felt so drained to think about all she was talking about. The logic extremists were a great concern for him since Amanda logically brought the topic into conversation a couple of days before his departure to Vulcan.

“I understand the risk,” he assured and despite being aware he didn’t have to prove anything, the fact she was certain he was some sort of oblivious child was unsettling.

“Not entirely.”

“The point to hold this conversation with me remains unclear.”

“I was young once. Someone took the time to give me a piece of advice that saved my life a long time ago, when I was a novel diplomat inside a planet in conflict, just like you. I would like to extend the same consideration a colleague offered to my young self, back in the day.”

Sarek examined her expression, she was severe but well-intentioned.

He couldn’t deny that she had much more experience as a diplomat than him, Ambassador Jharaah was serving a diplomat even before his birth.

The shred of discomfort when she mentioned that she was offering him a lifesaving advice was worrisome, not because Sarek was not aware of the evident danger of logic extremists displeased by his choices, but the fact that she was certain they would come after him. He knew it was a possibility, but as an active member of the government of Vulcan, Sarek thought they wouldn’t dare to even try it.

“Be careful, Ambassador,” she whispered.

Sarek inwardly shuddered.

“Is this a warning?”

“Yes, indeed. You should be aware that you _are_ alone from now on and should act taking into consideration that fact for your own safety.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Scott was bored.

The Vulcan broadcasting services had little to nothing to offer in the entertainment department, only news channels, educational shows with a cold voice and a channel with really old non-Vulcan movies.

Varek invited himself over his room to work together, or that is what he assumed he intended by staying there with a PADD there in absolute silence.

“Are you done with that?”

Scott was eager for any social interaction. He missed his ex-co-worker and Varek’s company was like being alone. 

“No,” Varek said without looking at him.

Scott sat on the bed, directly looking at Varek. He was intrigued.

“Hey, why don’t you take a rest?”

“I do not need to rest.”

Another silent minute passed until Scott spoke again, “Hum… Well, since we are gonna work together from now on… Why don’t we, y’know, introduce ourselves.”

Varek left his PADD aside, his expression slightly changed but the human could notice the bewilderment in his eyes.

Scott waited, but nothing was said, so he inhaled and decided to take the initiative, “Okay, I’ll go first. I’m Scott, as you already know, I’m twenty-six, and I was born in San Francisco, California, Earth.”

He nodded and another wave of silence from Varek filled the room.

The woman on the screen was speaking about the weather and Scott never felt as uncomfortable hearing the weather prognostic as at that moment.

“It’s your turn,” Scott said hesitantly. Surprisingly enough, Varek didn’t point out the lack of logic in his idea.

“Very well. My name is Varek, as I previously informed you. I am twenty-six standard years of age, and I was born in Suk'muzh, Shi’kahr, Vulcan.”

“Really? Great!”

“Why would you be uncertain?”

“It’s a human way of speaking, never mind.”

“That is highly illogical, but I am aware of the human preference for illogical courses of action.”

“Yeah, that’s us. We’re guilty,” he joked.

“This is not a courtroom. Pleading guilty in this context is illogical.”

“It was a joke, Varek.”

“I am not in the habit of making jokes,” stated the young Vulcan.

“Okay, no more jokes then.”

Scott shrugged.

Varek was troubling him more than he would like to. Sometimes, he seemed unaware of the external world and if like he had never been out there. The amazement in his eyes to witness the beautiful marine life in the aquarium inside the Andorian embassy didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you have any hobby?”

“No,” Varek answered tonelessly. “Is it customary for humans to summit new acquaintances to personal interrogatories?”

Had he been human, that statement would have sounded extremely rude, but his gut feeling told him that Varek was genuinely intrigued by his human customs. 

“That’s essentially how we socialize.”

“I see.”

“Have you ever worked with humans before?”

“No.”

 _It shows_ , the human thought. Perhaps, he wasn’t as creepy as he was inclined to think, just was unskilled in social conventions and protocols.

“Do you pretend to do any other query?”

“No, I guess. Hum…Would you like to ask me something?”

“No.”

Varek’s eyes focused on the screen on the wall. Scott took the control and instantly turned up the volume. He had forgotten that the local news channel was playing in the back during his awkward attempt to ingratiate himself with Varek.

“ _Spokesman and public logic advocate, sixty-four-year-old Balev was shot this evening at Suk'muzh during an event. A private social gathering was taking place in a touristic zone in the upper side of Suk'muzh, when an alleged sniper —who has not been identified to the current time— shot twice, injuring Balev and killing a twenty-three-year-old attendee identified as Vorik. No suspect has been arrested and an investigation has been opened_.”

‘ _Logic advocate’,_ echoed inside Scott’s mind.

He found very stupid and a demonstration of illogical denialism to call that man a logic advocate after very publicly gave hate speeches.

Vulcan press and media, insisted they weren’t extremists by refusing to acknowledge that detail when reporting any related news to them. He had heard that the leader had trash talked his boss and implied his interests as a diplomat were misplaced. His group was basically a terrorist organization. But since they never explicitly attributed themselves the credit of any attack or even admitted being some sort of sick cult, Vulcans let them be _._

It was probably that a lot of Vulcans agreed with their views in different degrees. Therefore, it was not a big deal for them to do something about it.

They have never attacked a single place inside Vulcan or targeted another member of their species before Ambassador Sarek. Most of the people didn’t consider the two hours and seventeen minutes that Balev—who was an extremist leader— dedicated to thoughtfully discuss how incompetent, human attached and un-Vulcan Ambassador Sarek was, as an actual threat.

Scott and Varek silently watched a video leaked of the surveillance precisely at the moment when Balev was walking among his followers, being closely followed by a young man. Then, both of them falling to the ground.

“I shall leave. Good night,” Varek’s voice drew his attention apart from the screen, he was leaving and taking all his belongings.

“Good night,” Scott said and continued to binge between channels.


	5. Unclear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varith continues to rummage through Velekh's belongings in search of some clarity. T'Mirek argues with Varith about his unhealthy handling of the situation.
> 
> Sarek's health is affected and he receives a mysterious phone call from an individual who seems to agree with the alarmist view of the majority about his position among his people.
> 
> The relationship between Scott and Varek has a tumultuous beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos! 
> 
> Special shout out to Kalima and FaerieMagic07 for leaving a comment :)

“ _It deeply hurts me to witness the ideological and moral decadence of my hometown. Suk'muzh it is poisoned under the influence of hatred and irrationality. I cannot think about anything else. Is this the correct way to act when progress approaches us? Would have Surak approved this course of action? Is hate justified in the eyes of these individuals?_

_Balev has spoken once again._

_He did not mention by name Ambassador Sarek, but I am certain he was talking about him._

_We agree on the fact that his bonding ceremony is setting an example for the galaxy, but I differ in what this means for the Vulcan race._

_Ambassador Sarek has brought into the conversation a topic we have avoided for so long. He has forced the entire planet to acknowledge a situation that has been present in the background of the Vulcan social scene for decades. His bonding ceremony has exposed the bigotry and discreet xenophobia that exists among our people, that is often, masked and justified in flawed logic…_ ”

Varith closed the journal.

He was tired and had spent his entire Saturday inside of Velekh’s apartment, to clean and search for any hint of his whereabouts.

T’Mirek had gone to solicit Velekh’s dental chart.

Detective Wallace told them it would be useful for the investigation to bring personal objects, medical records or electronic devices.

He had searched for Velekh’s PADD the whole day, but he didn’t find it in the apartment.

He knew that Velekh indeed had one, he used to see him work on the device.

His written logs reflected Velekh’s personal takes on different topics, always related to Vulcan society’s state, but revealed little about where he could be. Actually, the journals not even mentioned the escapades or were ambiguous about his past life. 

Varith never liked to bring back his past life to anyone, not even with T’Mirek. They had shared a lot of experiences during the time they both decided to become V’tosh Ka’tur, while still living on Vulcan.

Their backgrounds were different in contrast with what Velekh had disclosed as his past. 

The V’tosh Ka’tur was an old movement, a phenomenon that existed inside Vulcan since the Awakening Time, but was less common from the stiffest and most conservative environments, like Velekh’s birthplace.

_Where are you? Where did you go? Why?_

Detective Drew Wallace had asked when they had seen Velekh for the last time, the answer was easy, a month. But when he asked about when they had known something about him for the last time, the reply was not as a clear and easy to answer as the first question.

He heard his PADD beeping in the kitchen, where he had left it to charge it while searching for anything that could be helpful to localize his friend.

The screen showed him a new message from T’Mirek, a mail, so he sat at the kitchen counter and unlocked the device.

Velekh’s dental chart **[Received]**

**From: T’Mirek**

Vulcan **–** English **Translate message**

_Ignore this mail, Varith. I already sent it to Detective Wallace, but I want to save it here for any eventuality._

**_ Velekh’s dental chart _ **

_Sat, July 10, 7:00 p.m._

He clicked to get back to the main page. He had another mail from a co-worker in regards of the incoming Federation’s Day.

 **[** Jul 10 **] Stonn -** I did the deposit on Friday, it’ll be effective in three working days…

Deposit receipt

 **[** Jul 10 **] T’Mirek** Velekh’s dental chart - Ignore this mail, Varith. I already sent it to Detective…

Velekh’s dental chart 

**[** Jul 3 **] Martin Lowell** – The editorial wants to see you, call me…

 **[** Jun 29 **] Velekh** Photos **-** Good morning, Varith…

 **[** Jun 26 **] Martin Lowell** Good news – IB wants to translate your book…

 **[** Jun 22 **] Velekh** Photos

Federation’s Day. pdf

 **[** Jun 17 **] Martin Lowell** – Wyatt wants to talk to you personally. This is her mail…

 **[** Jun 15 **] Velekh** Photos

Federation’s day screenshot 

**[** Jun 8 **] Velekh** Photos **–** Stonn told me to send you the ideas for pamphlets…

** Federation’s Day sketches**

**[** Jun 1 **] Velekh** Photos **–** T’Mirek and T’Leia approved the photos, but I would like to know your…

Edited photos

Varith stared at the screen, thinking about dates and Velekh’s behavior.

He had been at work for the last time on June 1rst.

He was trying to reconstruct the whole timeline in his head.

That day, they had scheduled the complete activities of the month and the incoming Federation’s Day festival. Thus, he had barely interacted with Velekh that day, but he knew he was there.

He opened the last message they exchanged until Velekh went silent.

Photos **[Received]**

From: Velekh 

_Good morning, Varith:_

_I have finished editing the pamphlets for Federation day festival. Let me know if you wish to add a modification._

**_ Download file _ **

_Greetings, Velekh._

_Mon, Jun 29, 10: 44 p.m._

It was quick, cold and straightforward.

He watched the screen and re-read the short text, but it was obvious that the message contained zero information about his disappearance.

He opened another one, eager for even the tiniest bit of information he could get from Velekh’s dry messages.

Photos **[Received]**

From: Velekh 

_Good morning, Varith:_

Stonn told me to send you the ideas for pamphlets.

** Federation’s Day **

_Mon, Jun 8, 10: 44 p.m._

T’Mirek's loud arrival at the apartment was not enough to make him turn to see her.

Varith blinked and the entire message echoed inside his head. Then, a realization came up.

“I bought Terran Italian food. Let’s eat,” she said handling plates from the dishwasher. “Varith?”

“Good morning,” he repeated out loud.

“What? It’s fucking 9:30 p.m.…” she quickly replied with a half-smile, that faded away when she noticed Varith’s expression.

“He said, ‘Good morning’,” Varith said.

T’Mirek was too confused to add something.

Varith stayed silent for an entire minute and then, his eyes met her. The Vulcan woman remained quiet, waiting to hear what his friend had to say, because she recognized that look of knowing something in his dark eyes.

Finally, the man said with a cautious tone, “He wrote ‘Good morning’ and it wasn’t morning.”

“And?”

“It was not morning… here in San Francisco.”

“I don’t get it,” she laughed nervously.

“Why would you start a message with a ‘good morning’ if you are going to send it when it’s almost midnight.”

“Did… Did Velekh send you a message?” Her heart skipped a beat

“No.”

“So, what?”

“I believe he was…”

The silence evolved them and T’Mirek’s enthusiasm for the Terran food vanished.

“You’re acting like when we arrived here. Velekh’s clothing, personal belongings and his whole life are here, in San Francisco. I don’t have a fucking clue of where is he… But I don’t believe that there is some kind of mystery around all of this.”

“Observe this. These, are the messages he sent to me,” he handled his PADD to her, who reluctantly accepted it and scrolled. “The same hour in two of them, I haven’t revisited the other ones, but I—”

“Stop! You need to stop.”

“You are not listening to me.” His voice trembled as he said that, evident frustration in his tone.

"I did it. I listened to you and Velekh every single time… this is like the imaginary logic extremists thing. You have no idea of how much time I spent hearing about all of this _super_ elaborated conspiracies. I’m _done_ with that. I don’t have more energy to deal with you both seeing those bastards, we aren’t in Vulcan anymore. It’s time to stop thinking about what we left behind. I moved on, and I thought you too, but it’s like if Velekh triggered the fact that you haven’t. You still behave a lot like when we were studying in Shi’kahr… It’s like if in some way, you can’t and don’t want to move on. There’s no mystery to solve, Varith. Velekh needed help, we failed to do something for him. This is a consequence of that,” she snapped, her eyes were slightly watery, she was distressed and her emotions were more visible than on a regular basis. “Do you know what Detective Wallace told me today?”

Varith sat, watching his PADD locking and the screen going off.

“Tell me,” he said dryly, recovering the composure, still unable to meet her eyes.

“Velekh’s credit account has stayed without any movement for over a month. The time he went silent is the exact time no one has acceded. So… he had no money to go anywhere.”

“I see.”

“You need to see someone. This isn’t healthy.”

“I am okay,” Varith answered.

“You sure about that?” she asked. Her eyes reflected her emotions to the situation so clearly that Varith felt the need to look away. “It worked for me, I don’t see logic extremists everywhere anymore. You should really consider talking with someone. Velekh should have done it too.”

T’Mirek stood up, walking towards him and hugging him as a sign of comprehension, yet Varith found no comfort in the embrace.

**Ⱄ** **Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek adjusted the shiny golden pin in his dark robe because he noticed it was backwards.

Once again, he was trapped in another social gathering, bored and eager to leave soon. He had spoken with individuals whose names had forgotten as soon as they left out of his sight.

He exhaled and eyed his surroundings with discretion. 

He was convinced that unknown Vulcan man, who resembled so much the image of his brother Silek, had been following him around the event.

He didn’t know who he was, but he believed he saw him in the lobby that morning before leaving and it was now there.

He tried to ignore his presence. Somehow, he felt his dark eyes every time he moved to another place inside the ballroom. For an illogical reason, he stopped walking around because every time he did it, the man appeared to be closer and closer.

He sighed, nervous and restless.

Ambassador Lyra was talking with him about Vulcan.

She was praising the natural beauty of the planet and the unique flavor of the cuisine, but he was more committed to keeping in check the unknown man’s position than paying attention to compliments.

Sarek was extremely thirsty.

He drank seven cups of some bitter juice in less than an hour, despite finding flavored drinks as unpalatable, he forced himself to drink it. Because the water had a strong metallic flavor like _raw_ meat, which was disgusting in his opinion. The time only made unbearable the urge of consuming any liquids.

The unknown man following him around stopped him to search for a refill of his beverage. 

Ambassador Lyra started to speak about something related to a touristic temple nearby. Meanwhile, Sarek could barely concentrate in the conversation, because he was eyeing the stranger.

The man had relocated and spent the last half hour standing in the drinks' area, looking directly at him without interact with the rest of the attendees.

 _Stop,_ he commanded mentally to the man, like if he could hear him.

He was growing impatient, an unpleasant sensation hit him.

The man didn’t stop, Sarek saw him slowly taking a drink from the table and sipping the liquid. An action that felt like a mocking gesture, an act of defiance and also an invitation to get close, but Sarek didn’t fall for it and remained attached to his place.

 _Do not_ , he said to himself.

“Ambassador Sarek?” The bewilderment in Lyra’s voice was off-putting in Sarek’s ears. “Are you okay?”

He felt confused for a brief moment.

Why would she ask about his state? He was perfect, as always.

Perhaps, a little colder than usual, but he attributed that sensation to the common custom of adjusting to lower temperatures inside buildings, for the comfort of beings not accustomed to desert conditions.

“I am,” he replied and the surprise in the woman’s face made him realize he was displaying open confusion for her question, so he forced himself to recover the composure.

“ _You look a bit pale…_ ”

“Excuse me,” he said, unsettled and all of a sudden too agitated to stay. His eyes focused discreetly on the Vulcan stranger and whispered to Ambassador Lyra, “I shall leave.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Detective Drew Wallace had worked in so many cases during his career.

He had switched from homicides and violent murder cases to the missing person’s department, in the search for less traumatic visions to evoke at night.

He was currently assigned to, at least, three cases. Although, the image of that young Vulcan and his worried friends was troubling him more that it should. 

They have provided everything they could, the woman had brought the missing Vulcan’s dental record and belongings, as well as more pictures of the young man. 

He stopped in the most recent and examined it carefully.

Velekh seemed to be in some kind of celebration with the two individuals who reported his disappearance. He was looking directly at the camera and resembled almost… _happy_. His friends assured it was something different about his most recent disappearance. He agreed and wrote a message directed to the coroner, as it was the protocol after a long absence, adding the dental chart, pictures and the few medical records they had.

The sound of his husband, Thomas Wyatt, coming back home drew his attention back to the reality.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here? Kinda early, don’t you think?”

Thomas Wyatt was an officer part of the Terran department of the Interplanetary Criminal Police Organization.

Unlike Drew, Thomas had chosen a path full of violent crimes and greatest importance cases often involving high profile criminal groups.

“Yeah, but I wanted to stop by to eat together,” he said, staring directly at the screen in the detective’s hands. “Are you working?”

“Nah, I’m just reading this stuff. A Vulcan couple reported their friend as missing. The guy’s been out there for a month before they decided to tell the police, which is weird if you ask me,” Detective Wallace said, putting aside the PADD. “By the way, how’s your big case going on? It’s all over the news.”

“Well, there’s a lot to do. It wasn’t an accident, but that’s not hard to figure out. Places don’t suddenly explode with people inside.”

“Surely, don’t.”

“We haven’t solved pretty much anything. Saavedra thinks it was an extremist attack. It’s was pretty well planned to be made by an amateur. Definitely, the work of a skilled professional, because it’s way more elaborated than the Terran Children’s Institute attack.”

“That’s so scary.”

“Yeah, but she’s right. The whole place was full of that explosive shit, so whoever who did this wanted no survivors left.”

“Logic extremists?” Drew queried.

“Saavedra said that, but Denisse and I disagree.”

“They attacked the Terran moon’s institute not so long ago!” Drew Wallace said, serving food for both of them. “It wouldn’t be crazy to think they could be the responsible for this attack.”

“ _Exactly_. But the timing seems odd between attacks, and overall, the _target_ ,” Thomas said, looking at the pictures of the missing Vulcan all over the table. The Vulcan woman was covered in tattoos and her hair was dyed. She was the antithesis of a traditional Vulcan, the man wasn’t as changed as her, but there was something inherently different in his facial expression and the youngest one, the missing person, looked like a conflicted child in the search for a comfortable place to belong wearing those human styled clothes. “This is the kind of Vulcans they would target; _V’tosh Ka’tur_. Vulcans who have chosen a different way of living, not the ones who are close to be like them.”

“Do you think they might have an internal problem?”

Saavedra had said something along those lines.

Despite, no proved connection with actual logic extremists, the attack could still be related to them in a way.

The deceased Vulcans may not be active collaborators, most of the attacks were directed to people who were challenging to traditional values and leaving the home world was a mild form of that. _Would they kill for something as small as leaving the planet?_ It was too radical and pointless, even for a logic extremist, but he wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I was working on murder cases, there was a case that I remember pretty damn well. Some guy killed another, so brutally that we have to identify the body using his medical records. Turned out that they were some sort of gang and there was an internal war for the leadership. So, the other guy just went to straight up kill the competition.”

“A good theory, but we haven’t found any connection or hint that indicates these guys were related to logic extremists.”

“ _Yet_.”

“I gotta say the theories out there are pretty mistaken. Internet folks are really into mental gymnastics and conspiranoid theories,” Thomas replied, handling a canned soda from the refrigerator.

The public loved to engage in commentary out of boredom. Which was harmless most of the time, but with the rise of the public’s preference for misguided speculation by influential individuals with huge fan bases and following, as a form of entertainment, the panic and misinformation could be easily spread among the public.

“Some of them are reasonable. Those bastards are getting more and more public and shameless everyday… Their leader, even gives speeches on public and broadcasts his xenophobic crap to the galaxy to see,” Drew said, taking a spoonful of rice. “I don’t understand how no one has done anything. The guy has the nerve to mention Councilman’s Skon son in one of them. He’s part of the Vulcan royalty or something like that.”

“Well, it’s not that easy. He has been very careful with his public appearances and declarations and no one can ‘ _do something_ ’ if you belittle or mock planetary functionaries. So, he can freely critique whatever he wants.”

“A lot of people think that he wasn’t _criticizing_. His speech was more like a very ‘polite’ threat being who he is,” added Drew kind of shocked to think how lightly the galaxy was taking an extremist leader’s declaration against a public servant.

“Off-worlders think that. It’s hard to tell how this is perceived in Vulcan and freedom of speech is a complicated matter ever since,” Thomas interjected. “Also, being xenophobic not necessarily makes him a terrorist by extension. He’s a bigot for sure, but until this day, no one could prove that he has any direct connection with any attack. He’s clean.”

Drew took another spoonful of food and added, gesturing Thomas’ plate, “Enough talk about space bigots. Let’s eat.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek was restless.

He had slept almost four hours during the last week, and the effects of that were beginning to show.

Sleeping was extremely hard and required an amount of concentration he did not have. He missed Amanda and being back in Vulcan resulted to be even more unsettling than he expected.

He hadn’t called her in a while, he had already lost track of when he had sent a message to her that it wasn’t just a short reply not longer than a few lines.

Amanda was naturally worried for his safety and Sarek understood her position. Until that moment, he wanted to act unbothered and allow himself the indulgence of dismissing the subject, but Ambassador Jharaah’s insights shed a different light on the matter.

The logic extremists and their leader seemed to take offense for being associated with him outside of Vulcan, according to his colleague. He was beginning to think that her assessment was not an alarmist perception or an exaggeration, since the galaxy agreed he was in a compromised position and had become a controversial person for the simple act of getting married.

It was indisputable that the overwhelming and ill-intentioned reaction of the public played a major factor in the logic extremists’ disgust towards him.

The media all over the galaxy had added fuel to the fire with all the attention they poured into an event that was hardly relevant in their real lives. 

The buzzing sound from an unidentifiable source was drilling his head in waves since he entered his room. After twelve long hours of uninterrupted wakefulness, he got up of bed, determined to find the source.

_Buzzzzz…_

He closed his eyes, filled with nervousness for no logical reason and focused all his energies on searching for the source of that annoying noise.

The more he tried to spot the source, more scattered and foggy the sound became. It was like being surrounded by it and as if he was standing at the origin 

_Buzzzzz…_

Silence.

It suddenly stopped and then, the buzzing started to increased and sound more and more erratic that Sarek thought for a second that he had a device in his head about to explode.

He evoked all his years in logic to remain calm, his heartbeat started to normalize when the sound returned and, for the first time in hours, it was clear enough to assess that was a real life sound.

The floor, it was on the floor.

He focused all his energies to search for the device and the buzzing returned. It was a phone, his phone, so he turned it on and the screen light felt extremely bright in his eyes.

“ _Hello_?” It was the voice of a young man on the other side of the line. His mind began to race, the voice sounded familiar and juvenile. Perhaps too cheerful for his taste, but he was certain he had heard that voice before. “ _Ambassador?_ _Ambassador!_ ”

“Mr. Langdon?” Sarek stammered, trying to sharp his hearing sense.

The person on the other side of the line breathed audibly and then, adopted an even more cheerful form of speech, “Oh, it is you! _Hello_ , Ambassador Sarek.”

He was cheerful, too much cheerful.

Sarek was sure he never had heard Scott Langdon speak with that amount of enthusiasm. He glanced at the hour displayed in the digital clock on the nightstand next to the bed, the bright green colored numbers revealed it was 3:00 in the morning.

“It is an inappropriate time to call, Mr. Langdon,” Sarek said in a soft tone, uncertain when another wave of silence filled the line.

“Certainly it is,” he said and hung up, which felt off in Sarek’s perspective. Scott Langdon was formal and educated when interacting with him, but he was certain he had never heard him using that phrase, that was something _Sarek_ would say. Also, why he would call him when they were so close to each other? He was literally in the next room.

Sarek stood and walked towards the door, but stopped when he intended to reach for the doorknob and returned back to the bedroom, sitting down in the fluffy circled-shaped rug in front of the bed.

He meditated until the dawn’s light entered through the tinted crystal of the window, but no comfort came of such action. Not when he became conscious of the noise of the world moving out there against him.

And it was a _terrifying_ realization.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Scott didn’t expect to find Varek waiting for him in the lobby to take breakfast together or “the first meal” as he called it, but there he was when he exited his assigned room. 

“Varek,” he said. He almost had a heart attack, because the Vulcan had basically jumped out of the now where. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Langdon.”

“There’s no need for such level of formality. Call me Scott,” he replied and Varek nodded in agreement.

“Attaching to human social conventions, I extend you an invitation to take the first meal together,” the young Vulcan said, gesturing the elevator at the end of the long hall of empty rooms.

“Sounds great.”

Surprisingly, that day the schedule indicated only a social event at night. Thus they had free time for leisure.

Getting to know Varek had an odd and kind of unsettling subtext. He was stiff, formal and polite, but his human instincts made him feel like he shouldn’t get closer than necessary.

The elevator door slipped, opening into the busy lobby of the hotel.

Varek and Scott moved among the people crowding the place and made their way to the dining area and twenty minutes later they were both seated nearby a floor-to-ceiling window that displayed the exterior landscape.

“Does ever rain in Shi’kahr?” Scott asked, turning to see Varek, noticing his eyes completely attached to the bacon strips in his white plate with a hint of shock under thick layers of seriousness.

“Not as often as on Earth. Vulcan is a planet with deserted environmental conditions,” Varek explained, focusing on his on elected meal; cold soup and a small plate of green salad.

“I had never been on Vulcan before. This is my first time,” the human admitted cutting into pieces the pancakes in the plate.

“I am aware.”

“Have you ever been on Earth, Varek?”

“No, I have not.”

“Oh! Hum… well, it’s way colder than Vulcan.”

“It does not sound very pleasant,” he replied.

Once again, he was watching the bacon strips he intended to pick with the fork.

Scott was uncomfortable with the way he was looking at his breakfast, he deeply regretted to elect bacon strips, but was too late.

Varek was giving him a look of the subtlest bewilderment and disgust he ever received. Perhaps, he looked like the barbaric, illogical and uneducated human being Varek probably thought he was from the beginning.

“I am aware that humans still consume meals that include imitation of animal products,” Varek said flatly, as if he could hear his thoughts.

“Yeah, we do,” he said, lacking of anything else to say in response to that unnerving look.

Varek nodded and took a spoonful of soup.

“We stopped eating real meat way before my parents were even born.” As if stating that fact was doing anything in favor of the human kind in the eyes of a Vulcan. Humans were still barbaric in many ways for Vulcan standards. Regardless of working close to Vulcans during a considerable amount of time, Scott never felt like he had to explain his cultural practices until Varek appeared in his life.

“I see.”

The silence took over the table.

The noise of the tinkling sound of the cutlery colliding against the plates and the background chatter in the place only remarked the distance between them.

“You are displaying signs of discomfort,” Varek assured and Scott almost jumped to hear his voice.

“No, I’m just rambling. Never mind me.”

“Do you find my presence distressing?”

_Yes, I do, he wanted to say._

“ _No!_ Just, I don’t know you. That’s all.”

“You do,” Varek said tonelessly and then, added, “I partook on your human customs of socializing. According to my knowledge, that could be categorized in as ‘getting to know each other’.”

“Technically, but I meant that we don’t know personally.”

“I disclosed to you my age and birthplace.”

“Yes. Hum… I like Shi’kahr’s weather,” the human said in an attempt to soothe the uncomfortable silence in the table, pretending to be too concentrated on cutting the syrup-soaked pancakes he had chosen as breakfast. “Shi’kahr’s a really nice city, don’t you think?”

“It is agreeable, yes.”

Scott felt the need to flee. Varek was eyeing a man eating a huge piece of meat in a table nearby and he felt grateful to be out of his attention focus.

“You really seem to get along with Ambassador Sarek,” Scott commented.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” he quickly said feeling stupid. “I meant you're adapting very well to the work.”

“I am only complying _effectively_ with my work, Scott. As Ambassador Sarek expects us to,” he replied and no amount of seriousness could hide the hostility in his wording.

“As I do.”

Varek stayed silent and, eyed the whole place with a hint of arrogance and turned his eyes to the human, “I read the official reply you pretend to send to Ambassador Laurie about his request of meeting and I noticed minor errors of redaction and proper use of the English language.”

“I’m sure I wrote it correctly,” Scott assured, serious. _Did he?_ The seriousness of Varek was making feel doubtful of his performance.

“Natives speakers are not exempt from committing grammatical errors and elemental punctuation mistakes,” Varek said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of cold tea, looking absolutely unbothered.

“I know, but I’m pretty sure I wrote the reply correctly,” Scott insisted, imitating the Vulcan’s gesture and gulping the fruit juice on his glass.

“There is no need to take it personally.” Varek straightened his posture, but didn’t look defensive. His eyes almost reflected sympathy and Scott took offense from that gesture.

“I’m not taking it personally,” the human replied, smirking.

Scott blinked, confused and trying too hard to remember the entire text he had written. He was sure he had written correctly the reply and proofread it a couple of times before send it to Varek.

He saw Varek handling his phone to him, placing it in front of him.

He took it with hesitation and scrolled, reading the text and noticing the highlighted sentences in a bright red color. He stared blankly into the screen, confirming his assessment. There were b _asic_ errors in punctuation and grammar, as well, as in structure all over the text.

“I’ll work on it. Thanks for letting me know.” He turned off the device and extended it to its owner with a subtle smirk in his lips, kind of embarrassed to see what he had written.

“It is no matter,” Varek said tonelessly focusing his attention on the food.

Their eyes met.

The human smiled out of discomfort and proceed to slowly eat the entire amount of beacon in a spoonful under Varek’s cold scrutiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to settle a few things before getting into the drama part of this story. This is about to get so messed up for Sarek. I’m sorry for the delayed update, I was re-reading previous chapters to catch errors. Fortunately, I found a few and already fixed it. I’ll be constantly editing the story to improve punctuation and grammar, because punctuation doesn’t work the same in English as in my native language and I’m still learning.  
> Thank you so much for reading and stay safe :)


	6. Whispers From Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda faces a public trial when an old classmate decides to spread lies about her.
> 
> The person on the phone questions the logic of Sarek's actions. 
> 
> Scott and Varek collide over work issues and their working relationship becomes strained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to NixItAll and Kalima for leaving a comment!

###  **The Terran Times**

* * *

**People / Socials**

###  **What Amanda Grayson Should Learn from Zoria Zh’Ryllirh?**

Written by Leslie Westbrook

 **PHOTO.** Amanda Grayson (left) and Zoria Zh’ryllirh (right) at the Voyage Inn.

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Andorian Designer Plahsjs Has Been Seen at the Galaxy Inn with Socialité Ksghs

**Andoria** — The lovely Zoria Zh’ryllirh and Ambassador Christopher Laurie had been a major trending topic. Everyone loves the beautiful couple they make. Classy, educated, intelligent, well-spoken and independent is how Zoria has proven to be by holding her position as an educator and honoring her new duties with elegance.

The galaxy just _loves_ her!

Unlike Amanda Grayson, Zoria has been seen along Ambassador Laurie on Vulcan during his official meeting with the Andorian Ambassador to Vulcan the last week.

As always, she looks stunning and flawless. It is very clear to the spectator that she’s educated and a well versed woman in the ways of the galaxy.

According to official statements, she has served as an active promoter for better diplomatic relationships between Andoria and Earth. This week, she announced on her social media accounts that Andorian universities will be launching a convocation for students interested in internships and an educational exchange program for Terran citizens studying Andorian languages.

**[Continue reading this article]**

* * *

**Socials / Vulcan / People**

###  **WANTED: Where Is Amanda Grayson?**

Written by Alex Wayne

 **Photo.** Ambassador Sarek alone at the Tellarite embassy.

 **Related news:** What Is Ambassador Sarek Really Doing on Vulcan?

 **Earth** — This week, Ambassador Sarek has been seen very publicly on Vulcan. It looks like the Ambassador to Earth has been preoccupied with all this fancy events in his hometown. No one it’s surprised to see him out there, shaking hands with high profile personalities. But when we all see those pictures of him all over Shi’kahr attending this lavish parties and social events, surrounded by all these diplomats from every corner of the galaxy along their partners, the only thing I can think about is _where_ is Amanda Grayson? Where is she? Looks like she can’t handle a little bit of criticizing without run and hide.

She has indirectly confirmed this as the reason of her disappearance the last week. All her known accounts on social media passed from being private to been deleted without explanation after two ex-classmates of Amanda disclosed to the public that she has taken legal actions in a very blatant attempt of censure. 

**[Continue reading this article]**

* * *

###  **The Galaxy Inquirer**

* * *

**Socials / Vulcan / People**

###  **Is Amanda Grayson a Wolf in Sheep Clothing?**

Written by Sam Davis

 **Photo.** Amanda Grayson, Mia Grant and Samantha Summers on the Terran Languages Institute’s yearbook.

 **Related news:** A Vulcan Body Was Found in San Francisco Bay

 **Earth** — A lot has been said about Amanda Grayson since the news went public. 

One of her ex-classmates named Samantha Summers, who has identified herself as a former friend of Miss Mia Grant, just talked this week on a public account about what happened after the numerous interviews Grant partook in different news outlets. Which gives us a possible motive behind her silence.

“@ _Amanda.Grayson1_ can’t handle ANY critique. She LOVES to be in the spotlight, but as soon as someone voices a contrary opinion to hers, she will try to MANIPULATE you. You CAN’T silence @ _MiaGrant23_! Send all the cease and desist orders you want. You can’t prevent us to tell the galaxy how MEAN you actually are,” wrote Summers, after Grant announced that Amanda Grayson allegedly had sent a cease and desist order trough her legal team the previous week.

 _Apparently_ , it is Amanda Grayson the one who has ceased and desisted with being a public figure, because she recently closed all her social media accounts. Honey, you’re a _public_ figure! What did you expect? Naturally, when you learn about how she handles the attention, criticism and comments in the most un-classy and childish manner, threatening with legal actions to whoever dares to talk about her, disappointment it’s an expectable reaction. Then, it’s only _logical_ to ask ourselves if Amanda Grayson is the kind of representation we want out there about Earth and the human race.

* * *

That week, the press was having a great time commenting Sarek’s first public appearances on Vulcan after their marriage with special emphasis on the fact she wasn’t there, standing by his side. While the public was entertained commenting very viciously Sarek’s familiar situation on social media. Unfortunately, it never rains but it pours. So, after the wave of articles depicting her as a terrible person for “ditching” Sarek, her ex-classmate had continued to twist the reality and released a public statement about non-existing legal actions Amanda had never taken against her in the first place, despite how much the woman deserved it. Which only brought her more hateful comments and even more unwanted attention, when the storm of strangers judging her was beginning to fade.

Amanda turned on her PADD. It was early in the morning. For some reason, she was expecting Sarek to call her to video chat. Although, she was cognizant that Sarek’s schedule was full.

She was trapped in her egregious, but empty house in San Francisco. Alone with the occasional visits of payed employees to help with the cleaning and nothing else. It was impossible to go out and visit anyone on her own, because she didn’t want her loved ones being harassed and the few times she dared to go to the grocery store in the search for fresh air and some impersonal social interaction, ended up in unflattering pictures of her on the internet.

Amanda was stressed and too physically exhausted that she had spent a great amount of time sleeping or lying down in her bed without nothing to do aside from eating, bathing and binge-watching every show available. She had finally closed all her social media accounts to stop the messages and comments talking about how mean she supposedly was. Still, Amanda felt unable to not read the ill-intentioned articles about Sarek and herself.

The Terran press was very vocal and judgmental. Amanda missed her job as a school teacher and quitting wasn’t exactly her decision, although what media outlets assured about it. She was not leaving everything behind to willingly summit to Sarek as almost every columnist was determined to believe. She continued to work and held her position for nearly two months after the news went public and the whole planet, as well as the galaxy, learned about their marriage.

The leaked pictures of the human ceremony added fuel to the furor.

After almost two endless months of constant harassment at work or in public, Amanda had decided to leave her job for her well-being. Also, for the sake of her mental health. Because no one seemed to be willing to extend the smallest hints of empathy towards her. Not even her own kind. She was portrayed as some sort of petty woman and a cold-hearted gold digger most of the time. The writers with xenophobic approaches towards Sarek were as convinced as the average person that she still wanted something or had second intentions. The snobbish ones would praise Sarek’s natural Vulcan ‘grace’ and would put her down for being naïve or vulgar, uneducated on the appropriate manners and etiquette, and overall, an insufficient representation of the human race. Occasionally, they would remark how much out of her league Sarek was for being the son one of the most important figures of the Vulcan government and make unnecessary comparisons with the Andorian Zoria Zh’Ryllirh, who had recently married the Terran Ambassador to Andoria.

The reality was that Amanda wasn’t representing anyone but herself. Also, by marrying Sarek, she wasn’t accepting a position in the government, she was signing to spend her lifetime with him. 

She looked at her phone.

Sarek had sent a heart emoji.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek’s eyes fluttered open.

The soup he had elected to eat that afternoon was cooling down in the nightstand next to his bed and he knew that he had spent less time lying in bed than he thought, because the steam was still going up. Lately, he wasn’t hungry. The food tasted bland and often, uneatable. His favorite Vulcan dish, Plomeek soup, was disappointing and resembled nothing the flavor Sarek often reminisced of the early days of his childhood. Perhaps, a combination of the inner disappointment he felt of his own people and culture after his wedding, adding the physical impairment he was experimenting the last couple of weeks. The logical course of action would be to search for medical assistance, but he was beginning to think that every symptom he had was a psychosomatic reaction to accumulated stress.

He exhaled and desisted with trying to meditate. It wasn’t working after all.

All of a sudden, the lights went off.

“Lights on,” he commanded, but the lights didn’t go on. “Lights _on_.”

Sarek stood in the darkness, irritated and carefully moved through the room to manually turn the lights on. He pressed the light switch on the wall and the room lit up. He returned to lay on his bed, looking at the Plomeek soup. Forcing the food down his throat wasn’t something he felt the energy to spend the next hour doing. The lights went off and Sarek felt instant annoyance.

“Lights _on_.”

No reaction to his voice.

“Lights on,” he asked less politely. Again, there was no response and the darkness evolved the room. “Lights on… _please_.”

He closed his eyes, still laying on the fluffy black comforters on the king size bed. He wanted to sleep forever, but he had no mental energy to shut down his loud thoughts. Also, he lacked of concentration to effectively meditate to keep his psyche in check.

The sound of his phone vibrating inside the nightstand drawer made him open the eyes. His heart skipped a bit for a very brief moment when the sound interrupted his messy thread of thoughts.

The device kept ringing, and ringing and ringing.

He was committed to ignore the call, because he didn’t wish to speak with anyone. He made a mental note to keep the device turned off in the future and opened the drawer to answer the call, since the caller didn’t seem willing to relent.

“Hello?” Sarek said, putting the phone on his ear, still laying on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

“Hello, Sarek,” the voice greeted. As during the last time, it was cheerful and too enthusiastic. As if the caller were filled with overwhelming emotions of excitement or even, happiness.

“I shall inform you that this is not my phone,” Sarek lied. Despite the initial sense of unsettling nervousness that a voice as emotional as that had caused on Sarek, he was beginning to think that perhaps the caller was only someone trying to bother him. He lost count how many times the embassy number was misused by people with aspirations to be a comedian. Some of them had tried to be deliberately offensive or culturally insensitive. Suddenly, he missed the old man calling every week to let him know the weather forecast in San Francisco, who believed he was calling his son.

He sighed with a tinge of annoyance forming in his chest.

“Lying is illogical… _Vulcans don’t lie_.”

“I am not lying,” he reiterated.

“Then why did you say this is not your phone? Deny a truthful statement with full knowledge count as lying in every culture. You should know that.”

“Who is this?”

“You sound exalted… _emotional_. I can hear it through the phone.”

“Do I know you?” Sarek asked after a long minute of silence and the shaky voice probably didn’t go unnoticed. Would be he the man who was at the meeting? His heart started to race and took him a little to convey a bit of inner peace.

“Does it matter? The only thing you should know it’s that I’m your friend. I’m on your side,” The voice assured with a less enthusiastic tone. Almost sounded like if it was a different person saying that phrase.

“You are so quiet. Are you afraid of something? Yes, you are! Everyone seems to agree on that, but you don’t want to see. Vulcans don’t want you on their team anymore.”

“Pardon?” Sarek repressed the need to reply sharply to that allegation. Implying he was being emotional was, somehow, offensive.

“How many times we would have to tell you?”

“I do not understand.”

“Be careful, Ambassador! Be careful!”

Sarek hung up the call and let the phone fall to the red fluffy carpet surrounding the bed area. He turned on the screen and closed his eyes to sleep with the formal voice of the news anchorwoman providing updates of the major current developments of the galaxy playing in the background.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

T’Mirek had spent years and years along Varith. They had arrived together to Earth and, as the years went by, the past felt less heavy.

Velekh’s arrival to earth and in their lives, felt different. He wasn’t like any other Vulcan they had helped to leave Vulcan.

Varith had taken too personal the task to make him feel welcome and behaved as if Velekh were the son he never had. He had taught him to do the basic to be able to live the everyday life on Earth. The young Vulcan was fragile and he was scared to leave Vulcan and all that meant. Becoming a V’tosh Ka’tur was difficult, leaving Vulcan after embracing emotions was the natural step and the most reasonable outcome because all of them had been already disowned by their families at that point. T’Mirek knew there was something inherently different with Velekh as the time passed. He was like a naïve puppy who had seen little of what the galaxy had to offer. In her eyes, Velekh had lived a life with no opportunities to grow a wider perspective of what the universe was and, despite being a young adult when he arrived to Earth, he was lost and eager for security. She was aware that, in many ways, Varith felt like it was his duty to protect Velekh the way no one had protected him of the external danger.

In the twenty-three standard years on Earth, no Vulcan they had helped to adapt to the Terran way of life had mentioned the logic extremists until Velekh. Varith had his own personal story with them. Even, he had a few terrifying encounters with them as a result of his not very polite critiques on social media back in the day. Young extremist students of the University of Shi’kahr had not found very pleasant to be called other than logic advocates and the took action. Of course, he barely survived to the physical assault and with the apathy of his planet to what it was a very blatant and violent attempt of censure, along his increasing discontent with the way of living, he left for good. 

Both of them.

That night, they stayed in Velekh’s apartment after the discussion. Varith slept on the sofa, surrounded by the vestiges of a man’s paranoia caused by a life of trauma and emotional repression. She got up at two in the morning and observed the messy clipping on the wall, while Varith seemed to sleep deeply.

What it was supposed to mean? What did Velekh intend by collecting that information? Varith could think she was dismissive out of denialism, but she had tried to understand Velekh’s machinations with all the seriousness she could. Sadly, she never got to the point the young Vulcan talked about what triggered him. He was scared for sure, Varith agreed on that part with her, but none them had found out exactly why he was preoccupied by the logic extremists.

Varith had his story with them, but Velekh was even more reluctant to speak about anything related to his past with anyone and she never dared to ask.

“We shouldn’t move those papers,” Varith said.

T’Mirek turned to see him. He was waking up and the orange streaks of light breaking through the windows let her know that it was starting a new day. Another day without hearing or knowing anything about their dear friend. 

“It means something for him.”

“I wasn’t thinking about doing it, anyways.”

The silence filled the room. Actually, none of them have thought what to do with Velekh’s belongings yet. Varith had paid the rent of the apartment in advance and she had refused to allow a stranger to go and clean the place. It just felt wrong and she was certain that Velekh wouldn’t appreciate someone prying on his personal effects more than his friends already had.

“Did Detective Wallace call you?

“No, but he said he would.”

“Do you think that-”

“No, he would never,” Varith cut her off.

He had thought about that possibility, but nor he or T’Mirek had dared to voice it.

“He was doing well,” assured Varith in a quiet voice.

T’Mirek’s eyes looked around the room covered in Velekh’s materialized paranoia, “Did he?”

Varith exhaled and she felt frustrated by that action. They were getting into a vicious circle of going to work, spending the late afternoons at Velekh’s apartment and being generally tense by the entire situation.

“I prefer to keep an optimistic approach.”

“Did you find Velekh’s PADD? Detective Wallace told me that it could be very useful to find him.”

“No. It’s not here.”

“I’ll search on his desk at work tomorrow. I don’t think we have checked there.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Varek’s eyes followed his human co-worker thrashing around the bed and once again, walking to the closet with clear signs of irritation.

Humans were illogical and unnecessarily complicated creatures in his eyes, and Scott Langdon was no exception. Twenty-six minutes had passed since Scott decided he wanted to search his phone with no success.

“You already searched in your closet,” Varek said flatly with his eyes in the screen of his PADD. Once again, Varek was inside his room because the sole idea of going to the Vulcan’s room was unsettling.

“I know,” the human replied, but continued to insist on searching inside the messy closet.

“Insisting will not make your device appear,” Varek stated as if was obvious.

Scott exhaled with irritation. He had lost his phone. Their stay on Vulcan was as busy as being working at the embassy on Earth. 

“Well, I need my phone and I’m sure it’s here… somewhere in this room,” Scott answered, shrugging and feeling stupid.

“Better organization habits would have prevented this.”

“It is illogical to ramble on what could have been,” Scott replied searching under his bed.

“Indeed,” the Vulcan concurred, returning his gaze to the PADD.

With an audible sigh the human came out from under the bed.

“I give up. Probably I lost it ages ago and I didn’t even notice until now.”

The human sat on his bed defeated and unlocked his PADD, facing Varek.

The sooner they complied with the work, the better and he would be free to search by his own the device without Varek’s excruciating eyes on him. Also, they had a lot of work ahead since Ambassador Sarek was extremely busy attending all kinds of pointless social events these days. They both had barely seen their boss during the last week and he suspected the situation wouldn’t change in near future. 

“Let’s start. I’ll search my phone later.”

“Very well.”

“I sent you in the morning the reply for Ambassador Noraag’s request. Did you read it?”

“I did. To optimize the process, I corrected the original version to fix spelling mistakes beforehand.”

“Spelling errors? I proofread it,” the human assured. “Can you tell me what mistakes are you talking about?”

“Ambassador’s name was misspelled in various instances. Also, the several punctuation signs are misused throughout the text,” Varek assured, quickly clicking on the screen of his device under the human’s scrutiny. “I will send you back the text you have sent to me.”

Scott’s PADD beeped on his hands. He opened the file containing the eagerness he felt to prove Varek wrong about what he just assessed.

“This is not what I wrote,” he quickly said, frowning.

“That is the text I received.”

“It’s wrong.”

“That is what I am trying to communicate to you, Scott.”

The calm tone he used was unnerving and only fueled the human’s frustration. There was no way he could have written that terribly misspelled text full with amateurish errors.

“I meant that I did _not_ send that to you.”

“It is illogical to lie.”

Scott saw Varek arching an eyebrow and he used all the energy he had to not roll the eyes in response.

“I didn’t say that you are lying. I did say that I didn’t write that crap. I have been working for Ambassador Sarek for almost two years. I know how to properly write and, excuse me, but do you really believe that Ambassador Sarek would allow me keep my position writing the word ‘ambassador’ with a letter _h_ at the beginning?”

“There is no need to feel personally alluded by work matters.”

“It was an expression, Varek,” Scott said, exhaling. Varek had a special talent to make him feel extremely stupid and incompetent. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry, Varek.”

“We have been attending different social gatherings throughout our stay in Shi’kahr. Your human biology makes you require more sleep hours than a Vulcan. Therefore, it could be that the demands of the work schedule are overwhelming because of the biological limitations of your weaker species. ,” Varek explained coldly.

Scott felt no kindness coming from him, only blatant and pure arrogance. So, he kept his mouth shut and forced a fake smile before saying, “I’ll be careful with what I write and when I write it.”

“You are only human,” Varek stated.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Scott snapped, because it was not the first time Varek had made a comment like that and he was beginning to feel attacked.

The small amount of peace he evoked fell apart in a heartbeat. He might be exaggerating, but the sub tone and wording Varek was inclined to use when pointing out any flaw he may have was consistently condescending and arrogant. A cultural clash? Perhaps, but he wasn’t sure, not while Varek was looking at him with that pair of eerie emotionless eyes.

“No, I do not.” Varek remained still.

“Well, ‘ _weaker species_ ’ it’s not the friendliest of statements.”

“I may have made a mistake with my selection of words, but you are reacting emotionally to an objective fact. I don't pretend to belittle your heritage. You have misunderstood me,” Varek said matter-of-factly, devoid of all emotion.

Varek’s seriousness made him doubt about his wrathful response.

Was he in the wrong? Was his reaction out of proportion? Perhaps. Regardless, Scott was certain that he had written correctly the text, but Varek had a valid point. Despite how impolite Scott thought Varek was while exposing his assessment.

“You are right. I need to sleep,” Scott said all of a sudden.

It was late and he didn’t wish to look more emotional and uneducated as he already had portrayed himself in front of Varek’s eyes. The Vulcan had enough material to judge him negatively and being tired only would make him look even more cranky.

“Very well. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Scott followed Varek gracefully moving to the door to leave.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek touched the tiny pin in his robes for the sixth time, as a way to ground himself.

He could feel Ambassador Vanni’s eyes staring at the human styled wedding ring he was using in his right hand and Sarek wanted to ask him if he wished to see it closer. So he could stop pretending he was not appalled to see a Vulcan wearing accessories belonging to human wedding rituals. Human ambassadors had proven to be really interested in his personal life as Sarek had already confirmed and they weren’t exactly discreet about it.

Once the official part of the meeting was over and the mandatory social gathering started, he could hear their voices speaking in a lower tone at the distance about the fact Amada wasn’t there and, once again, the wedding ring. Unnecessary to point out the lack of logic in finding an accessory relevant enough to feel the need to speak about it behind his back. Apparently, the intergalactic press, the public and his colleagues found entertaining to comment the same topics; Amanda, anything related to the relationship and how the logic extremists took the public announcement. Sarek wished to be able to flee or a have a less sharp hearing sense that prevent him of —unintentionally— eavesdropping meaningless chatter involving him. Leaving that soon would be rude, attaching to human social conventions, and he didn’t want to walk around in the search for his aides. For some reason, that felt like an awkward move on his behalf.

Sarek had confined himself to stay nearby the egregious window displaying the urbanized Shi’kahrian view.

“Did you _see_ it?” The excitement in Ambassador Bjarni Ottó’s tone was evident and absurd in his view.

“The ring?” The female voice of Ambassador Agneza Stana whispered, but Sarek still could hear her, loud and clear. He couldn’t hold himself to observe the thick silver hoop surrounding his finger, which only highlighted the absurdity in finding interesting to comment that detail at all.

“I thought Vulcans didn’t wear wedding rings,” Ambassador Santomé countered.

“They don’t,” Ambassador Tremblay assured.

“He’s married to a human. It’s logical to see him partake in our customs,” replied Ambassador Stana.

“Very emotional on my view to wear accessories symbolizing events.”

“Many cultures agree that is appropriate to acknowledge major events in one’s life, such as getting married.”

“Still an emotional move.”

How illogical was to question his intentions behind such a small gesture. Sarek forced himself to focus his attention on the sound of the capital moving beyond the window in front of him. Nonetheless, he failed the task.

“Not necessarily. Every culture, values an event in different ways and, honoring alien practices is an essential part of our work. I don’t believe that wearing a piece of human jewelry is meant to be entirely an emotional action, since he’s married to a human.”

He could see Ambassador Hsogwi standing in the circle sipping his drink in silence, not partaking actively in the conversation, but wearing a subtle expression that led to think the he was interested to hear what they had to say about the topics.

Partaking in human customs was the logical course of action. If he wanted a purely Vulcan way of living, he would have chosen a Vulcan woman as a mate, not a human one. So he was there, standing in the middle of a room with a crowd of educated individuals, who had lived and experimented the galaxy as much as he had and who still felt the need to waste their valuable time, gossiping about someone else’s life and an event without actual impact on their personal environments.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ambassador Sarek,” the unmistakable deep voice of Ambassador Jharaah said in a moderated cheerful tone.

Sarek almost choked on his glass of water. It took him an endless minute to recover the composure and turn to face the woman.

“Ambassador Jharaah.”

“It is a beautiful night. Shi’kahr has its charm.” The woman’s eyes concentrated on the nocturnal view of the desert through the open window at the ballroom.

“Certainly,” Sarek answered and lowered his eyes for a brief moment.

Ambassador Jharaah’s eyes eyed their colleagues at the distance and locked eyes with him, a conciliatory smile formed on her face. “As I said, it’s only harmless chatter for the sake of the entertainment.”

Sarek nodded in agreement.

He was aware of that. She had said it before. His concerns had another source and were far more reasonable than meaningless idle talk from strangers.

“Illogical beings often engage in illogical practices, such as gossip.”

“We do.”

The background talk highlighted the silence between them.

Sarek was immersed by the vision of the night. He missed the times where he thought the world he had born into was safer and more civilized. Easier times, with no pressure to prove who he was. The doubts and dubiousness he had grown by returning to his home world were uncomfortable, because it could be categorized as low-key emotionalism. Was he fearful of the logic extremists? No, but taking into consideration their numerous mentions in recent speeches was logical. Thus, it was reasonable to question if was logical to feel threatened.

“Negotiations seem to be delayed.”

“As I’m aware, there are not,” Jharaah said. “You’re the one who seemed to arrive earlier than expected to Vulcan.”

An odd comment, since his presence was specifically requested, according to his father and the Vulcan government had made the necessary arrangements for his arrival. The only thing they had asked was his very presence at the stipulated time and date.

“I don’t mean to bother you, Ambassador.”

“What it’s is the purpose of approach me with no official intention?”

“Empathy.” _A feeling_. Sarek stared at her in disbelief, not because he couldn’t comprehend her words, rather he felt unfocused.

“Empathy,” Sarek repeated with a voice tone devoid of emotion.

“I know. It is illogical,” she stated and Sarek agreed. “I have had the pleasure to work along with respected figures of your home world. I concluded that honesty and straightforwardness are valued traits among your people.”

“You speak truly,” Sarek started. “Vulcans value those traits, since logical courses of action require awareness.”

Jharaah nodded and he noticed a strain of hesitation in her facial expression.

“In my long career as a diplomat, I’ve seen only two Vulcans show visibly emotions,” The woman said solemnly. Sarek wasn’t eager to engage in a conversation about personal topics. He saw her thinking carefully her words and she continued with a low voice tone, “One, thirty-four years ago during a tragic incident at my home world, when one of my dearest friends lost her bond mate. The second time, has been this night at this precise moment.”

“Pardon?”

 _Was she accusing him of being publicly emotional?_ Sarek inquired internally. He was a Vulcan and, as one, he was trained to keep his emotions for himself.

“You look troubled, Ambassador,” Jharaah said and then, in a quiet voice added, “I can see your emotions, as everyone in this room. If I were you, I would appreciate being told.”

Sarek blinked and observed his own reflection in the crystal of the window. He was troubled by the inside and little he knew he was projecting that state to the outside, to the galaxy to see at the moment that he needed to look most Vulcan than ever. At that precise moment, he felt exposed and mildly ashamed. It didn’t matter how much he tried to content his visibly emotions, he lacked of the energy to do it. So he stood there and gave back a confused gaze to Ambassador Jharaah, who returned a mild worried expression as a response.

“You should take a seat,” Ambassador Jharaah suggested.

Sarek slightly frowned to hear that suggestion. _Why?_ He didn’t need to rest at all. He repressed the need to touch his pin once again.

“I am fit, Ambassador,” Sarek replied, recovering the composure. He straightened his posture to look as collected as every other Vulcan, but that sudden attempt to conceal his emotional display didn’t go unnoticed. 

“You seem unwell.” The empathetic tone she was extending to him was condescending in his ears. Sarek was aware that Ambassador Jharaah was well intentioned and was trying to offer some sort of friendly gesture and a demonstration of kindness by being honest.

But, it was clear she still perceived him as the oblivious child of the once famous Ambassador Skon.

And that wasn’t pleasant at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if some details or characters look without purpose, but I promise you that they have a motive to be mentioned and be there. I apologize for the long wait. I was correcting other stories that are already published, because I want to give you the best quality I can deliver to you. Thank you for reading and stay safe :)


	7. Haute Couture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos!  
> Special shout out to Nardis77, Ariadni, PaddySnuffles and the guest readers!

###  **The Sun Journal**

* * *

**Vulcan / People / Media and Politics**

**Opinion**

###  **Balev: Nitpicking Vulcan Logic to Protect the Traditional Values**

**PHOTO.** Young Balev at Suk'muzh during his famous speech about The United Federation of Planets.

By Varith

 **Related article:** The Federation Approaches Zhnlu for Peace Negotiations

 **Vulcan, Suk'muzh—** In a progressively closer interstellar scene, at a time like the one we live in, the galaxy is a smaller place than it was a decade ago. All of this, courtesy of the technological advances. We are more prone to learn about what is currently taking place in the outer to a galaxy-wide range. We are only a click away from all sorts of information sources, news outlets and independent journalism works. Which can be used as a tool to spread a message and reach a wider audience than in the past, where the resources were limited and far more restricted.

Logically, the cultural clash that supposes an open and connected web, comes with a fastened progress that lead to the inevitable examination of our own cultural practices. Realizing that there are a spectrum of ways of living life and cope with the same issues out there, supposed the beginning of new intellectual trends. Which, in a plenty of examples, oppose and challenge the traditional values of a community. 

Vulcan is no exception to this phenomenon. The traditional Vulcan culture is full of practices, characteristics and guidelines that are becoming obsolete and feel stale for the younger generations. The planet has been going through a phase of inescapable change for the last century, as the relationship with the outer space gets closer. Vulcans are learning about a variety of manners of living that resemble nothing theirs every day that elapses.

When the gates of the progress opened, absolute rejection and disapproval quickly manifested from the most conservative provinces of Vulcan. One of the main opponents and instigators to reject any idea that is contrary or leads to question Surak’s approach of emotionality was Balev. Back then, a young follower of the teachings of Surak, who has been a prominent figure within the Vulcan political and social scene for decades.

He is a devoted defender of the ancient ways and a fundamentalist pro-Surakian principles activist, and as such, he has been very vocal about his disagreement with the implemented foreign policies. But in a galaxy where interspecies cooperation is essential for greatest advancements in fields of study as engineering, physics or mathematics, adhere exclusively to our own kind it is not the most logical approach coming from a man whose life is devoted to the ‘ _logic above all_ ’ principle. Rather, appears to be a desperate move of a supremacist to avoid facing an uncomfortable reality.

* * *

When Sarek woke up he wasn't on his comfortable bed at the Galaxy Inn. Instead, he was seated at the egregious and lavishly decorated table of the Terran Ambassador to Vulcan. He blinked out of confusion and noticed he had a half empty crystal clear glass of Terran alcohol in his right hand. Unusual, because he found human alcoholic beverages, particularly unpalatable.

He touched his pin depicting the word 'Ambassador' and noticed, that once again, it was backwards. A meaningless detail that brought an illogical wave of anxiety to his psyche.

"Would you like another glass, Ambassador?" Ambassador Kaufmann asked, gesturing the wine bottle.

Sarek stared in silence to the bottle, shook his head and muttered a weak, "No, thank you for the offer."

There was a brief moment where he couldn’t tell if he was dreaming. He could hear a subtle, but clear sizzling sound coming from the walls of the room that no one seemed to perceive. It was as if he could hear the energy of the electricity moving through the entire room as blood vessels working. He sighed with discretion and tried to focus his energy on ignoring the noise. Once again, he wished to possess less sharp senses.

The cold temperature of the room sank into his bones and made him realize that he indeed was awake. A sensation of nothing and nobody surrounding him was real clouded his mind. He felt like floating and as if the chair he was sitting on was levitating over a void, because he couldn’t feel the firm floor under his shoes.

Sarek saw himself standing up with care, concerned that the floor would break and he would be absorbed by the darkness of space. Ambassador Kaufmann stared at him in confusion and he pretended to shake non-existing dust off his lap and returned to the chair, feeling less troubled.

“Are you okay?” Kaufmann asked.

“Yes, Ambassador,” he replied dryly.

And he drank the rest of the Terran alcohol at once, wishing that he could get intoxicated from consuming the liquor. The drink burned his throat, but helped him to wake up and redirect his attention to whatever Ambassador Ywsho was talking about in the opposite side of the table.

It was going to be a long night.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

_Missed call_ , indicated the screen of his phone.

He was standing in the middle of the lobby waiting for any of the multiple elevators to open. It was the afternoon and he was longing to get some sleep. Using the stairs wasn’t an option, he was too tired to move more than required. He saw a group of travelers entering the adjoining elevator, he decided to wait for another one instead of taking it and spending an uncomfortable minute avoiding any physical contact.

Sarek entered the elevator to return to his room when Varek appeared to stop the doors and stepped in. The young Vulcan took a step aside and headed to the other extreme of the small space which constituted the precinct and Sarek wondered if he was shielding correctly his emotions. 

“ _Good afternoon, Ambassador Sarek_ ,” Varek greeted in Vulcan. Hearing his name being properly pronounced by Varek provoked some kind of reaction he couldn’t categorize. He had a very flagrant accent native form Suk'muzh and Sarek realized he never had heard someone speak like that in real life.

“Varek,” Sarek replied, “Good afternoon.”

Varek’s preference for the use of their native language was notorious. Although most of the personnel at the embassy was of Vulcan origin, it was odd to hear them talk in Vulcan while interacting with him. It was a non-written rule to use Standard when outside of the planet, even among themselves.

“May I have a word with you, Ambassador?”

Sarek nodded.

His eyes looked in silence how Varek pressed a button on the panel and the elevator stopped moving. He let out a sigh, the elevator lights were oddly bright, almost too much to stay.

“I would like to inform you that Mr. Langdon’s professional performance has been deficient in my opinion. He has repeatedly written official replies with fundamental mistakes, despite being a native speaker of the English language.”

Sarek turned to face Varek, arching an eyebrow.

Sarek was a full Vulcan as Varek was. Although what humans, among other species thought about Vulcans, they could still hold biases that could be easily categorized as illogical. He had hired Scott Langdon two years prior and he had proven to be highly qualified to hold the position he was offered. Thus, hearing a sudden complain about the human’s professional display was unexpected. Sarek himself, found the presence of certain colleagues as rather unpleasant, but as logical, controlled Vulcan adult, he would never act upon that sentiment as other would definitely do. He was perceptive and, expeditiously, he noticed that Scott did not find Varek’s presence very agreeable from the very beginning, but behaved like a professional should and complied on work related matters. At the elapsed time, it appeared to signal that it was a mutual sentiment. He could be mistaken, but Sarek suspected that Varek thought Scott Langdon was not qualified due to the inherent emotionality of their species.

“In your _opinion_ ,” Sarek echoed with the gaze fixated on the closed silver doors. 

“Yes, Ambassador-”

“Opinions are subjective takes, Varek. Despite what off-worlders may think about Vulcan opinions, these still can be as subjective as theirs,” Sarek said, coldly.

Varek seemed to be thinking how to voice what he wanted to say at the very beginning with a better wording.

“Do you have any substantial proof to support this assessment?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Send it to me.”

A wave of silence surrounded them.

Sarek felt Varek’s eyes on him with that almost invisible strain of nervousness. He knew he wanted to add something else and was having a hard time thinking how to voice it out loud.

“Is there anything you would like to add, Varek?” Sarek prompted, inexpressive.

“Yes, Ambassador,” Varek replied. His deep, dark eyes looked directly at Sarek. “Mr. Langdon is too emotional for the position. He has reacted illogically when I indicated his mistakes.”

“He is human, Varek,” Sarek replied.

“His humanity does not excuse unprofessional performance.”

“Certainly it does not. However, emotionality is an essential part of the culture that Mr. Langdon comes from. Which differs from our own, that can lead to cultural misunderstandings.”

From a Vulcan point of view, even a glance could be overly emotional. Sarek knew very well that the perception of stoicism varied from planet to planet and that was something they had to learn to cope with if they aspired to positions that required frequent interaction with outsiders.

“Emotionality is inappropriate in certain moments, even in human culture,” Varek countered, “Mr. Langdon has reacted rather negatively to logical criticism by taking offense when I meant no disrespect in a personal manner to his person.”

Sarek looked at Varek.

Both of them had been born and raised in a conservative family of followers of the teachings of Surak and logic training. However, Mr. Langdon had been working at his side for two years and he had never felt that the man was abnormally emotional. The words of his own kind claiming he was becoming too enamored and attached to humans echoed in his mind. Was he too accustomed to humans? Was he the one who had softened and started to slowly become one of them? Emotionality was a valued trait inside many cultures around the galaxy, often considered a sign of authenticity and truthfulness on an individual. The perception within Vulcan society was different from the human one and emotionality was a symptom of lack of discipline and control, a shameful weakness.

“I see.”

“Ambassador.”

“Yes, Varek?”

“I am qualified to comply with the work with no impediments,” Varek stated devoid of emotion.

"That is an assessment that I can only conclude on my own by examining the exercise of your duties."

“I concur, Ambassador.”

Sarek extended his arm to click the button, making the elevator move once again. The sudden mechanism of the elevator functioning felt like a brief jolt. He felt Varek’s warm hands around his left arm, holding him gently. An action that caught him off guard, Sarek shuddered, feeling weak and small.

“Are you well, Ambassador?”

“Yes,” Sarek answered straightening his posture, “Thank you, Varek.”

“ _I come to serve_.”

Varek tucked his hands behind his back, under Sarek’s scrutiny. The silver doors of the elevator opened wide, he hesitated and took the first step to exit the compound.

He got in his room and went to sleep.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Velekh’s desk at the work remained like the last time he was there.

T’Mirek had waited the entire day to finally search for any answer about his whereabouts without inquiring eyes judging her. She sat on the soft office chair in front of the cubicle and exhaled.

The desk was an utter mess.

No one had organized that small space since Velekh disappeared.

Her eyes examined the notes attached to the wall. There was nothing actually relevant written, only a few notes of reminders to complete daily affairs of the ordinary Terran life, like paying the rent, doing the laundry or the deadlines for the work he was assigned to.

She began to open the drawers, exploring its content with care. The frustration was taking over her, after opening all the small lateral ones and find nothing aside from sticky notes, pens and office supplies. She opened the main rectangle drawer and rummaged among that unhealthy amount of paper Velekh kept inside. She recognized Velekh’s sketchbook on the bottom of the box and grabbed it.

After a moment of hesitation, she opened the sketchbook, leafing through the thick pages. He had drawn every single one of the employees working at the office. Stonn, T’Leia, Sasek, Varith… all of them were here immortalized on the paper. She continued to observe the skillfully made drawings and slowly, the faces became less and less familiar with the occasional appearance of recognized Vulcans in between of the strange faces, like Councilman Skon or Ambassador Sarek. 

Her gaze stopped at the _holo_ picture displayed in a transparent frame on the desk. The frame contained a photo of them during Velekh’s birthday. Varith was placing a golden cardboard crown on Velekh’s head with a subtle smirk on his lips.

“ _Where are you?_ ” she thought. T’Mirek’s heart wrench, realizing how much she missed him.

She grabbed the _holo_ picture and the sketchbook and left.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

After twenty minutes, the waiter finally brought the food. Occasionally, Ambassador Sarek would eat with his aides. It was not a novelty for Scott, but it was for Varek.

Ambassador Sarek resembled so drained. He had the impression that he was generally unfocused for the last week. He had seen him quieter and more taciturn than usual. Of course, he was a busy man with a tight schedule since they arrived to Vulcan, but Scott thought that Sarek looked… _depressed_. Perhaps he was judging him under Human parameters and jumping to conclusions that were not applicable to a Vulcan. 

“ _Nemaiyo na' ish-veh dvin_ ,” Ambassador Sarek said to the young man while serving their meals.

“ _I come to serve_ ,” the young waiter answered in Vulcan before leaving. 

It was clear that Varek wasn’t his favorite person in the galaxy and that had nothing to do with the fact that he was a Vulcan. He had worked along Vulcans for a very long time, he used to have a cordial relationship with the other employees of the embassy and the last person holding Varek’s current position was a Vulcan as well. Thus, he didn’t dislike Varek out of a cultural shock or due to a misunderstanding. Varek was an arrogant idiot, full of airs and graces, no doubt. Ambassador Sarek was a Vulcan too, and he was kind… on his own serious and unemotional way.

Varek was underestimating him. His insistence on speaking English with him despite knowing he was well versed on Vulcan, which was a minimal requirement to work at the Vulcan embassy and along Vulcans felt like a very subtle way to belittle his capacities. Varek had taken the posture as if he was an oblivious human incapable of even uttering a single word in Vulcan.

He relaxed his posture and started to eat the food he was served while hearing Varek speaking with Ambassador Sarek. Varek commented something about recent events at the quadrant and Sarek listened to him, moving the transparent broth of his plate. Had he been human, Scott would have thought he was playing with the food. Varek’s voice resembled too loud in comparison to the voices of the rest of the clients speaking in the background.

“ _I concur_ ,” he heard Varek say.

“ _The quadrant’s situation is tense_ ,” Sarek said Vulcan, giving a gaze to the human, acknowledging his presence.

“ _The entire galaxy is going through tense times_ ,” he answered in Vulcan.

“ _The Federation’s territories are experimenting crucial changes these days. It is no surprise to learn about conflicts every day,”_ Sarek agreed.

“ _The change always troubles individuals. Hostility is often an immediate response to progress,”_ Scott replied.

Varek tiled his face, as if he were trying to understand his words. That made Scott to be too self-aware of his knowledge of the Vulcan language.

"Excuse me,” Ambassador Sarek said all of a sudden, he almost threw the metal spoon on his plate and disappeared among the clients, towards the lavatory. Scott observed him leave and then, his eyes returned back to Varek.

 _“Change is not always equivalent to progress. Unexpected changes are, quite often, the result of illogical and unnecessary conflict,”_ Varek started to explain, “ _It is logical to not welcome forceful alterations, especially when this disrupt the collective effort of a population.”_

Scott was pretty sure Varek was trying to speak as fast and complex as he could, far away from the standard Vulcan on purpose. He had heard him speaking with their boss in the hall using a more common vocabulary and less regional words.

_“Conflict can surface as a response to an unwanted situation undergoing among a population, Varek. Not every individual has the same perspective of a situation. A fraction of the population may be holding a privileged position, while a minority or even a great part endures undesirable problems. At times, conflicts it is instigated by preexisting situations that cannot be solved by pacific means. Albeit tried.”_

“The human perspective often inclines to react with hostility, regardless of the situation. Your history as a race indicates a strong tendency to emotion-driven, purposeless violence and individualist gain. Sometimes, violent responses are motivated by the disruption of the commodity,” Varek replied in English. “Even if this means only the benefit of one individual or a small fraction.”

“Being a human doesn’t mean I agree on evert single thing with the rest of humans out there, Varek,” Scott replied. Another occasion where Varek let him know how barbaric and illogical his people were. “It’s a _logical_ conclusion. I’m sure that there are some aspects you disagree with your people as well.”

“No. Vulcans rarely rely on illogical courses of action. We comply with our duty as it is expected and we do not experiment the need to monopolize. Terrans lack of the sufficient self-control and measure to not search for conflict out of the border of their home world. Starfleet an example of this compulsion for war and imposition.”

“ _Monopolize_? You speak as I was the President of Earth.” Scott instantly regretted to reply that. It was too childish on his behalf and… too emotional. It was clear he was offended, especially in the eyes of a dutiful Vulcan like Varek. “I don’t agree with a lot of stuff that Starfleet does, but the fact they are a human dominated organization doesn’t mean that I’m—automatically— part of that.”

“You are taking my words as a personal attack,” Varek stated dryly, “yet again.”

“I am _not_.” Scott forced himself to look collected.

He recognized the ambassador walking back to the table. Varek seemed to understand that and started to eat his vegetable stew in silence, looking absolutely flawless for when their boss got closer. Ambassador Sarek focused his eyes on both of them for a moment and then, poured his attention to the broth in the ceramic bowl in front of him. Varek imitated his gesture and the human felt the imperious need to tell him to **—** politely **—** go and fuck himself.

He didn’t.

Instead, he took a spoonful of his creamy soup. His _cold,_ creamy soup.

Varek had ruined his mood and the dinner.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

"Denisse said you wanted us to stop by," Thomas Wyatt said once Coroner Josie Vázquez greeted him early in the morning. The officer shuddered because of the low temperature of the place. The medical examiner’s department wasn’t his favorite place, but his boss had sent him along his partner, Officer Mara Saavedra to speak with the coroner.

The investigation turned out to be more complicated than expected. Big cases were usually relatively easier to close, mainly when the crime was committed as publicly as the attack had been. The perpetrator or perpetrators had committed a criminal act in the middle of the daylight.

"Tom, Mara," the woman said in response. "This way."

"So..."

"What did you want to show us?"

"I don't know if you have come across the news, but someone found a body floating in the bay."

"Sadly, it's still usual here."

"I know. Suicides are still a problem, but you know I wouldn't make you come here without a valid motive. I hate to waste my time as much as you do," she replied, tonelessly.

"Straightforward, I like that," Officer Saavedra said. 

"Well, it looks like someone was walking his dog when he found a body floating in the edge of the rocks of Cochrane Recreation Area.”

"And...?"

"A _Vulcan_ body," the woman added.

The two officers looked in silence as the coroner opened one of the multiple square-shaped metal doors of the cold storage. A body emerged from the chamber and Thomas noticed the Vulcan features of the deceased person.

Coroner Vázquez transferred the man into the autopsy table. The bright fluorescent lights highlighted the skin paleness of the corpse and the opacity of his black hair. The water had done considerable damage to the body, but not as much as a human one would have sustained under the same environmental conditions. 

Mara Saavedra got closer to observe.

Thomas had never seen a deceased Vulcan under that circumstances. He had seen the horrible pictures of the rest of the victims of the temple attack, but the amount of damage caused by the explosive materials used had made hard to recognize and classify who they were. 

“Male. Vulcan. Probably he was in his twenties, but I don’t know yet. Vulcans often look way younger than they actually are,” she announced.

"Did he drown?" 

"No, he was thrown into the bay after. He wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have made you drive here for a suicide."

"What's the cause of death?"

"He has a severe skull trauma that might be caused by a heavy object behind his head."

"He was murdered," Thomas noted.

“Yes,” she answered, “and I don’t think he was thrown into the bay from there. The water carried him all the way down there.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, it’s only a gut feeling.”

Thomas nodded, but said nothing.

"That's so unusual," Mara Saavedra stated, her gaze fixated on the Y section performed in the Vulcan. "I mean, the victim. Vulcans, even the V'tosh Ka'tur one, are pretty well-behaved."

"How many murder cases involving Vulcans have been reported recently?"

"Well, the logic..."

"In San Francisco."

"I've seen all kinds of victims in this place, but I've never seen a deceased Vulcan due to very obvious violent causes and I’ve been working in this place for twenty years."

Thomas observed the Vulcan and he tried to remember how it looked the missing young man that Drew was looking for.

"Drew told me that a couple of Vulcans reported a missing friend. I believe he had his dental chart or medical record."

The coroner stayed quiet and got closer to the man.

"It's the only way since the water has swollen his face. I don't think a picture will be enough to state his identity," he added, as if were his duty to persuade her.

"I agree.”

Vázquez gloved hand grabbed the chin of the Vulcan and pulled it down, revealing swollen gums with no teeth left.

"Whoa!"

"He didn't suffer. It was performed post mortem. I think it was done without any premeditation, the work was done very poorly and without the appropriate supplies. It’s the work of an unskilled individual, because there are remains of broken teeth. Whoever who did this left the dental roof of tooth 15 inside.”

“I would say it was to prevent the body to be identified."

“Perhaps.”

Once again, an odd target. Vulcan followers of Surak were not very prone to partake in illogical behavior and crime could be categorized as that. Logical Vulcans attacked and then, a Vulcan man murdered using violence, whose teeth had been taken off, which was a barbaric act even for human standards.

"Also, he has no defensive signals," Vázquez added.

"So he knew his murderer."

"That's very likely, but I couldn’t find any DNA on the body. He was for about three days under the water before being found. That certainly makes my job a lot more difficult and if the murderer planned the crime, which is very probable since whoever who did this used only the necessary amount of violence to achieve their goal, yours will be hard too.”

“It’s very probably it was made out of necessity. No defensive signal and no excessive violence. Impulsive and unplanned crimes often indicate strong feelings against the victim,” Saavedra speculated in a cold voice.

"Do you know who's this man? Has he been identified?" Thomas interjected.

Vázquez shook her head and he sighed, defeated.

"Not yet. They brought him a week ago and he had no ID, phone or anything that could help us to state his identity."

“So we have nothing.”

The silence filled the compound until Thomas Wyatt spoke again, “How’s this man related to our case?”

“The fabric of the clothing he was wearing isn’t native from Earth.”

Mara Saavedra arched an eyebrow. The information didn’t seem very concrete and she suspected that the only reason that Coroner Vázquez had to think the decease of the man was related to the case, it was his ancestry.

The coroner clicked a button and a small opaque dome appeared to cover the body. The pair of officers followed the woman close behind as she walked towards a screen placed in the wall, which instantly turned on once she commanded.

“Vulcan fabric?” Saavedra read from the screen, clearly confused.

“ _Og-elakh sai-tukh_. Literally means ‘thread fabric’. It’s a fabric made of silk and cotton like material, usually colorful with intricate designs and, according to the information I found, it’s a traditional fabric that it goes back to the pre-reform Vulcan couture,” Vazquez started to explain, “It’s not precisely cheap and seems like it’s an extravagant luxury nowadays.”

Mara and Thomas exchanged glances. 

“So he was probably wealthy enough to wear Vulcan silk.”

“Yes. But wait, there is more.”

The image in the screen changed. More images of fabric samples took over and Thomas recognized one of the pictures of the few calcined Vulcans whose bodies had—surprisingly—not blown to unidentifiable pieces.

“It’s similar,” Saavedra said in a whisper.

The female officer’s eyes concentrated on the bright orange-colored fabric on the screen. She was astonished how detailed it looked what she deduced that it was a script. The design was too beautifully made that it was senseless to hide it as a lining inside a somber black robe.

“No, it’s exactly the same composition and design. I compared all the samples we have available of the victims of the temple and this man.”

“I discovered that the exterior part of the robe is made of _sha’amii_ wool.”

“Well, a lot of Vulcans hold a really good position outside of Vulcan. It doesn’t surprise me that they can afford high fashion stuff like this.”

“I know, but don’t you think it’s so unlikely that they decided to wear exactly the same attire? This clothing is clearly a piece of Vulcan haute couture. It was made with the same uncommon lining of a very expensive and exclusive material that it’s hard to find on Earth. For me, it looks like a uniform.”

“Uniforms,” Thomas echoed in disbelief.

Vulcans wearing expensive uniforms... _why?_

Well, that was a start.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Scott had successfully avoided Varek. Partially because he was kind of ashamed to get so easily offended by his Vulcan honesty and he would rather spend his time proofreading every single writing a thousand times so Varek couldn’t have the opportunity to make him feel incompetent.

He had read the poorly written response he supposedly had sent to Varek and there was no way he could have sent that awful attempt of text. It was a vicious insult to the English language and he needed to find out what it was happening to his work. If that awfully performed work fall into the hands of Ambassador Sarek, his position would be in jeopardy. Probably, Varek had already notified the Ambassador about it, he was certain since he didn’t seem the kind of person who could concede him the indulgence of imperfection.

He sighed.

The human stepped inside the elevator with irritation forming on his chest. Surely Varek would be in the lobby waiting like the perfect and flawless Vulcan assistant, he was, gracefully hovering around Ambassador Sarek. Perhaps, he was projecting his feelings to others and Varek was acting rightfully according to different cultural parameters.

He owed him an apology, anyway.

The elevator doors opened and an Andorian man stepped in. Scott couldn’t hold himself to look at him. The man was wearing the most extravagant and colorful outfit he had ever seen in his short life.

“Hello, stranger,” the man greeted with a half smirk on his face.

“Sorry,” Scott said, “I not a creepy stalker.”

The man was that famous fashion designer all over the tabloids. Possibly, the one to blame for all the cameras and paparazzi nearby the Galaxy Inn. He had seen them take a few photos of his boss that later appeared on very mean spirited articles that used Amanda Grayson’s absence as some sort of proof of an imminent divorce file. 

“Are you a paparazzi?”

“Do I look like one?”

“No, I guess you don’t.” 

“A fan?”

“I’m not really into fashion. But you already know that, since I’m wearing a three credits plain and boring blue tie,” the human joked.

“I see.”

“You’re the reason of all those guys out there, right?”

“I love cameras and they love back. They just can’t get enough of me and I don’t blame them.”

 _So humble,_ he thought _._ He was still more charming and kind than Varek, despite his astonishingly high self-esteem.

“I look like it,” The human said and when the elevator doors slide open, a flashing camera blinded his vision for a few seconds.

He waited in the lobby for a minute for Varek and then walked to search some food, ready for a peaceful morning breakfast without no one judging him.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

The next time Sarek’s phone rang it wasn’t the call of an unsettling stranger. It was Councilman Skon, _his father_. He felt unable to answer the first time he recognized his number on the bright screen. Instead, he let the device vibrate on his pocket while he was focusing his attention on forcing the food down his throat to maintain the bare minimum of his nutritional needs. He had almost fainted in the morning and after realizing he had eaten portions no even sufficient to sustain a Vulcan infant, he committed himself to at least consume one full meal per day.

His head ached and pounded once again.

Perhaps, as a result of the irregular diet he had acquired when he arrived on the planet. After a few minutes, the vibration made him uncomfortable and he desisted trying to feed himself to attend the call. That oppressive sensation in the pit of his stomach to the prospect of being in contact with his father stole his breath. The last time Sarek ever felt in that way because of Skon, was during his childhood, when he wanted to comply with absolutely everything his father wanted him to be without any flaws.

He clicked and put the phone to his ear, expectant and more nervous than he would like to.

“ _Sa-mekh_.”

The word felt foreign in his lips. Was Skon still his father? After all that had happened between them previous to his bonding ceremony, he could not be sure. Sarek was almost certain he had been disowned after silence Skon's and the furor of the public. His choices certainly had attracted negative spotlights for every individual surrounding Amanda and himself.

“ _Sarek_ ,” Skon said with a perfect intonation of every syllable that composed his name. There was a brief silence and then, the man added, “I am not calling you in my official capacity.”

 _Sarek knew it_. Had Skon been calling only with official purposes, he would have proceeded as when he requested Sarek to travel to Vulcan and made the arrangements through his aides to maintain the distance. He was aware how impersonal his family could act when they wished to avoid an interaction.

The truth, it was that Sarek had nothing to comment or say to his father. Thus, he stayed quiet on the line. They had not spoken since he announced he would be marrying Amanda. Skon had not been vocal about his disappointment as his mother and brother had, but it was implicit that he agreed with their view by not interjecting on his behalf. At least, that was how Sarek understood his silence upon the final ultimatum.

“What is the purpose of this call?”

“Extend an invitation.”

 _Invitation?_ Why? He asked himself. Surely, it wouldn’t be a purposeless one. Vulcan rarely engaged on the indulgence of gathering by the sake of social interaction and after all that had befallen the year prior, it was logical to believe he had a purpose to extend him an invitation of any kind.

“My current schedule would be an impediment the time being,” he managed to say tonelessly.

Skon was undecipherable, as he had always been. Analyzing his voice tone to deduct what his motivations were, was useless, his speech was like a calculated wave that did not fluctuated not even a bit.

“I can make the required arrangements to amend that situation,” Skon said. “Do you consent this?”

“I do,” Sarek replied, mindlessly.

“Very well.”

“I shall send you the details,” the older Vulcan stated. “Live long and prosper.”

“Peace and long life.”

Once the line went silent, Sarek stayed frozen, holding the phone. His PADD beeped and the screen turned on and he didn’t need to check to know that his father had sent the information. His mind started to race.

Sarek stared at the cold soup and felt unable to force himself to consume it. Perhaps, in the morning he would feel less tired, less weak, less… _emotional_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! I finally finished my other stories, so I’m free. I may be delayed , but I’ll continue to update this story since it’s the only one I’m writing and I have so much fun writing it. Also, I was re-reading the story. I realized that I used the word ‘work’ instead of ‘job’. Silly me! I’m happy to be able to notice my mistakes and fix them.  
> I forgot to clarify that this kind of a slow build story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and stay safe!


	8. Hesitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to dedicate this chapter to AmandaG96, whose stories I love and, has had some not too nice weeks due to a migraine. Get well soon :)

The Andorian Ambassador to Vulcan had decided to celebrate the anniversary of the first diplomatic mission to Vulcan. The tension both planets had endured for years and years had finally culminated on a symbolic gesture of peace, exchanging traditional gifts in a very well documented ceremony on common ground. 

Scott glanced around the egregious room.

The compound was supposed to be a garden, but it was surrounded by a structure of clear floor-to-ceiling windows with a subtle blue tint that offered protection against the extreme sun’s heat of Shi’kahr and had a very low temperature. It was like being inside a well decorated crystal clear refrigerator.

That day, Sarek only required one aide and Scott had volunteered to escape the monotony of being seated for hours typing and reading while Varek had stayed at the Galaxy Inn. So he would be free of his annoying and know-it-all attitude for a few hours, which felt liberating. That and the fact that he was always fascinated to witness alien cultures celebrate, it was always a display of a handful of the most characteristic aspects of a group of people. What a culture decided to highlight and continue to pay tribute, revealed a lot about their values as a civilization and involved aspects as customs, traditions and etiquette.

He had entertained himself looking every aspect, from the delicate decorations to the pieces of art elaborated in a traditional style, displayed in the main hall, depicting the entire storyline between Vulcans and Andorians, from the conflict to the peace agreement. He glanced around and stopped in the vision of Ambassador Sarek having a conversation with Ambassador Jharaah.

Ambassador Sarek’s behavior was unusual.

Of course, he was never exactly the kind of person that would feel the need to be friends with his boss, but two years were sufficient time to get to know someone. Regardless of how impersonal their interactions were and he had the perception that something was affecting him that was obviously disturbing him to an extent that it was visible for everyone.

Sarek was usually quiet, but was perceptive of the world surrounding him, interjecting only when it was wise to do so. However, lately he resembled uncharacteristically absent-minded and as if as the days elapsed, his attachments with the real world were beginning to weaken and shatter and he were completely unaware of that. Scott recognized small details that were a signal of distraction that he had never seen before in a Vulcan, let alone Ambassador Sarek, as untied shoes, misplaced accessories and that time on the elevator where he seemed to be struggling to remember the floor where their rooms were and he had to correct him for selecting the wrong one. 

The event ended around 4:00 PM.

The car had delayed and he had to stand awkwardly in silence next to Sarek, who had an expression of weariness. He looked from the corner of his eye, he was sighing and wearing that micro expression of what he had cataloged as restlessness.

“After you,” he said when the car appeared and Sarek locked eyes with him.

Once they were inside the car and ready to come back to the Galaxy Inn, the ambassador looked back at him and leaned against the window, exhausted and dread as if all his vital energy had left his body.

“Ambassador… are you okay?”

No answer.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

“Sarek,” Amanda said once she appeared on the screen, waving her hand with enthusiasm.

“ _Ashayam_.”

Her beautiful and bright smile made his growing tension relapse for an instant. They hadn’t had the opportunity to speak the previous days and hear again the voice of Amanda felt comforting.

“I miss you,” she stated. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been waiting to call you, but I didn’t want to bother you because I know how busy you are. How are you? Are you having fun on Vulcan?”

“I have miss you as well,” he admitted, “… _very much_.”

Amanda smiled broadly in response to that declaration. That day, he was overly emotional and he felt lonely. The world he had known as his home for his entire life resembled too distant and foreign. Sarek found himself wanting to leave immediately the planet and return to Amanda’s side, but he had to fulfill his duties as an ambassador and was not possible to just leave without any logical motive.

“I’m so happy to see you. You have no idea how lonely I’ve been feeling without you around,” Amanda added and her voice switched from the initial enthusiasm to a muffled intonation that he recognized as sadness.

“There is something troubling you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Speak your mind.”

Amanda lowered her eyes and flashed a smile devoid of all happiness.

“I wonder… I wonder why everything seems to be against us, Sarek,” she said. “The concept of ‘you and me against the world’ it’s too romanticized and… I don’t know why most of the people out there, my family, your family… _everyone_ disagrees with our relationship. We are not hurting anyone by being together. It’s just… I just can’t understand it.”

“Their opinion should not be a source of distress,” Sarek replied, recycling what he had said prior his departure.

Amanda sighed heavily.

“But it is,” she whispered. “I wanted to ignore it, but I can’t. I’m not that strong.”

Sarek observed her gathering courage to continue talking.

“I just realized that those bastards writing about us has real life implications.”

“Amanda-”

“It is what it is,” she reiterated with a shaky voice, “It doesn’t matter if we wanted it or not, they are voicing out loud what people think about us and that’s regardless of how we act or what we say. It’s all lies and made up stories, but how can people be sure that isn’t true? How can they confirm that I’m not a gold digger or you’re a sick fetishist?”

“It is unhealthy to pay attention to that,” he insisted.

However, she wasn’t mistaken. The logic extremists based great part of their arguments on how his _illogical_ actions reflected on them as Vulcans. Ambassador Jharaah had said they disliked being categorized, by the same people who were criticizing Amanda, as the same kind of Vulcan. Which derived on the politest death threats ever written in the embassy mail.

“I know that it’s illogical and I’m being silly by paying attention, but how could I not when it’s practically everywhere? My colleagues read those articles and I knew they wanted to ask a ton of questions, people whisper wherever I go, my own family can barely repress their need to ask me about our relationship and I’m upset because I had to leave my job,” she countered.

Amanda took an instant to recover the composure, realizing that she had raised her voice unintentionally. When she spoke again, her tone was more controlled, but Sarek could still hear that strain of distress.

“I used to believe that if we behaved and stayed silent, they would get bored, but even the silence gets twisted! That bitch is profiting off me. She’s making money offering interviews because we were in the same class. What kind of civilized society allows that? Can you believe it? _I don’t._ Those bastards writing their bullshit only fuels the morbid curiosity of the people around us,” she concluded. “I’m expected to be the greatest person. My mom told me that I have to be the mature part of the situation and withstand everything, but… I can’t stand anyone telling me that I asked for this and should pretend that I don’t feel anything.”

Sarek looked how Amanda stroked her own hair with evident nervousness, as she did when she was trying to keep her emotions in check. The shine of sadness and her slightly watery eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I went to visit my sister because I feel lonely and the idiotic prick she married couldn’t let pass the opportunity to ask me… _things_. He wanted to know if we look… the _same_.”

“The same,” he repeated, not understanding what she meant.

“You know… _down there_ ,” she clarified. Amanda’s cheeks turned red from a mixture of anger and shame to be questioned about such personal matters.

Sarek blinked in confusion.

Once he got her meaning, a strong feeling of anger hit him. It was unbelievable to hear that someone would even dare to formulate that question out loud. He was truly sorry for what Amanda had to stand shortly after the wedding, their happiness had faded in a sea of disrespectful opinions, negative reactions, speculations and off putting questions motivated by the sick curiosity of familiars and strangers.

“I’m deeply sorry, Amanda,” he managed to say.

There were no words he could say to disperse the distress she was feeling. He wished things to be different for both of them, but it was beyond their control how outsiders decided to act. He caught himself feeling violent, frustrated and powerless.

“That doesn’t change what I feel for you,” she said and her voice softened. “I love you.”

Sarek wanted to tell Amanda about the recent attempt of his father to contact him, but it wasn’t his intention to upset her further, so he didn’t. If something relevant happened during that visit, he would communicate it later, when the time was more appropriate.

“As I do, _Ashayam_.”

“I gotta go. It’s late here and I need to sleep.”

Amanda’s side of the line went silent and he realized how empty the room was, while looking his own reflection on the black screen. 

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Varek was far away from the limits of the Galaxy Inn for the rest of the day and out of Scott’s sight for his relief. He craved a much-needed break from Ambassador Sarek’s number one fan. Even if that meant that he would be trapped alone inside his room working.

Probably, Varek was _finally_ fulfilling his fantasy of having Sarek for himself without him around. Varek had proven that he deeply respected Ambassador Sarek from the very beginning. His constant hovering and that very subtle—but still noticeable—fascination he seemed to feel every single time Ambassador Sarek had poured his full attention to him.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t like anything he had ever witnessed before and he couldn’t be sure if Sarek was completely oblivious, absorbed by the busy schedule or if it was something common in their culture. Varek was considerably younger than most of the personnel at the embassy, he was twenty-six standard years, but he was pretty much a child since Vulcans matured slower than humans. Perhaps, his behavior was something usual within Vulcan culture, no matter how many years he studied their language and devoured every paper that contained the minimal information about their way of living, as the hermetic people they were, there was always something he wasn’t aware of. Unlike humans, who had most of their cultural practices, history and languages open to whoever was interested enough to learn about them. Vulcans valued secretiveness and humans were pretty exhibitionist compared to the Vulcan natural inclination for privacy.

Had Varek been human, he would think that he had some kind of _crush_. The man was always hovering around Sarek like a puppy and Scott was pretty sure Varek had complimented the Ambassador’s choice of robe once. But no, Varek was _too_ Vulcan for that and he was being a silly human by thinking that.

He laughed to imagine Varek cutting and editing a picture of himself over the face of Amanda Grayson on the leaked pictures of her wedding party with Sarek.

Probably, a consequence of his increasing boredom and lack of agreeable social interaction.

He missed T'suk’s presence around, but since she left to become a V’tosh Ka’tur, he had never heard of her again. 

It was hard to tell if Varek was being blatantly honest and looked rude for Human standards, but was rightful according to the Vulcan social protocols. At the beginning, Ambassador Sarek resembled so scary and his very presence was intimidating. He used to feel unbearably anxious while interacting with him during his first year at the embassy.

Of course, Ambassador Sarek was conscious of his cultural background—and perhaps the fact that he was married to a human, made easier the situation for both— and he simply ignored his blatant display of emotions most of the time. Scott had a mild encounter with a young Vulcan of his age named Sasek, who worked at the embassy as the science attaché, that seemed almost horrified with his human expressions. He had had the impression that the Vulcan was disgusted by his behavior, but turned out he was only curious and appalled by the contrast of their cultures.

They even used to talk frequently after Scott directly asked him if he found his presence as unwanted. But in that situation, Sasek was never hostile. Scott had misunderstood his stares of curiosity as discreet dislike. Later, Sasek confessed to him that he had never been outside of Vulcan before and he had never interacted with a human on his life before. Which was reasonable since he was the only human working at the Vulcan embassy at the time.

Varek was way different in that sense. He was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt by understanding how unusual and shocking should be to a young Vulcan to witness what it was considered a transgression within his culture on a daily basis. He had disclosed to be born on one of the most conservative provinces of Vulcan and Scott wanted to believe that he had better reasons to be unfriendly than just bigotry.

He had spent the last night thinking about the texts that Varek assured were written by him. He wasn’t stupid or naïve. Of course, he suspected that Varek was behind the messed up texts, but still, he had a strain of doubt he couldn’t ignore. Varek was a logical Vulcan, and deliberately sabotaging the work of a colleague, was not logical at all. It was not acceptable, even for human standards. Messing with someone else’s source of income was disloyal and pretty scummy. If that was the case, why he would bother? They had the same position and were granted the same payment. Ambassador Sarek had no such thing as a main assistant and they had to divide the work equally.

He sighed, starting to type on his computer.

Scott initially thought that Varek had messed up the texts after receiving them, but when he opened the original file on his computer, it was the exact same awfully written text.

However, he had no proof, not even a hint that Varek was the one sabotaging his work aside from his increasing dislike towards him as a person and his perceived hostility. But who else could be? Ambassador Sarek? _No_ , it was the only logical option to think it was Varek’s doing.

Would he only want him fired? That was highly illogical and irrational. If Varek required his removal from the position in order to get a promotion, then Scott would understand why he would do something like that. Regardless, he could hardly frame Varek typing inside his room, downgrading the quality of his work to look better in front of Ambassador Sarek’s eyes. It just didn’t seem right or something that a logic-trained Vulcan as Varek would be willing to fall into.

It made no sense at all.

Then what else could be? Was he tired while committing those mistakes? Was the thin atmosphere of the planet affecting his ability to write properly? Did he need a tri-ox injection?

Maybe, Varek was right and he was tired while he committed all of those basic mistakes.

If he needed to get rid of him, he would need irrefutable evidence that wouldn’t be collected on its own.

Scott stared at the screen of his computer, noticing the redline underlining a word in the middle of the text he just wrote.

He had written wrong the word ‘ _ambassador_ ’.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

T’Mirek placed the _holo_ picture she had found on Velekh’s desk on the shelf, next to his sketchbooks.

Spending her weekend on an empty apartment that it wasn’t hers was not exactly what she really wanted to do, but since Velekh disappeared either her or Varith were really into the mood to do anything or go out. They had been waiting for any information without success. Detective Wallace had said they would be receiving news very soon, but was very vague about what exactly he was referring to. She had been tense and worried since she read an article reporting a Vulcan body floating in the bay, found nearby a recreation area by a man walking his dog. The days only made worse her fears and all kinds of horrible scenarios appeared in her mind. T’Mirek had framed Velekh devoid of life resting stiff on a cold autopsy table after the cold water ripped off his life without no one there to save him, fearful and asking for a help that never came.

She had finished cleaning the dust in the living room, so she opened the curtains to allow some sunlight illuminate the apartment. She had been very reluctant to enter Velekh’s bedroom for some reason from the very beginning. That seemed like an even greater transgression than to pry on his personal journals.

The light broke through the window, making its way to the small hall connecting the living room and Velekh’s bedroom and she took it as a signal to reunite courage to enter.

She twisted the knob and the door opened slowly with a creak. She exhaled deeply while standing rigid on the doorway with the vacuum cleaner in her hand.

The accumulated dust was visible and she concluded that Varith hadn’t been there before her. The room was neat and his fluffy black slippers were nearby the bed, waiting for his return as if he was coming back home at the end of the day like it should be.

The loud vacuum functioning distracted her for a while. Forty-seven minutes after, the room was tidy and dust free. She leaned the vacuum against the nightstand and started to remove the bedlinen, carefully folding the brown padded duvet and then she took off the white sheets. Once T’Mirek finished the task and the mattress was exposed, she noticed a clean cut on the right side.

She left the folded dusty bed linen to look closer to the cut, wondering if her friend would need a new mattress. The hole was wide enough to get her hand inside, so she did it out of curiosity and patted on the small padded space until she felt a solid object surrounded for what it felt like some kind of thick plastic.

She pulled it out. It was a phone and definitely, not the one she had helped Velekh to buy short after his arrival to Earth.

T’Mirek observed in silence the device inside the transparent plastic bag. Nobody would keep a phone inside a mattress for another reason that it wasn’t hiding something. She hesitated, because she wasn’t supposed to be prying on Velekh’s personal belongings, let alone keep whatever she found, but the curiosity was powerful. 

She decided she would keep it, so she packed it up the dirty bedclothes for the laundry as quickly as she could and left the apartment. 

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Officer Thomas Wyatt finished his third coffee of the day.

His boss had decided that he and his partner would be covering everything relating to the unknown Vulcan and he assigned other officers to the task they had been initially assigned at the beginning of the case.

He had been looking at the pictures taken of the attire of the deceased Vulcan for a very long time, as if he was certain he would discover something about his identity by looking at the picture. Coroner Josie Vázquez had theorized that the clothing was a uniform, but he found absurd that assessment. Wearing the exact same model was something not precisely unusual among Terran residents, since following fashion trends was very common.

That morning he had walked nearby a guy wearing the same shoes and tie as the one he was using.

Nonetheless, he had to agree with her. After an extensive search on every information source they had available about Vulcan culture, he had begun to think that Vázquez might be correct to a certain degree. The modern Vulcan clothing wasn’t as expensive and convoluted. The average piece of clothing was a simplified version of the ancient models used on daily affairs and were made in a less traditional manner.

He had examined the clothing and noticed a difference. Yes, the lining was made of Og-elakh sai-tukh, but the color of the main pattern was different to the other samples and, according to his investigation, blue pigment was more difficult to make. That should mean something, since Vulcans tended to add purpose to everything they engaged in, so he was convinced that the variation on the design had a motive.

“Those are some really nice shoes,” Saavedra said out loud.

She got closer, placing her PADD in front of Officer Wyatt and zoomed in a picture showing, depicting the internal part of the shoe, where the small logo and the name of the brand was written in a black Terran font.

“High fashion once again?” he asked.

“The idiot my sister married thinks he’s better than everyone for wearing expensive stuff like this.”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. He had no idea how he was supposed to pronounce that approximation in Terran script of an Andorian word.

“Lah… _ee_ …kan,” he read.

“ _Laikan_ ,” she corrected him. “It’s an Andorian luxury brand. At least, luxury enough to uplift arrogant pricks.”

Another lavish and unnecessarily expensive election of clothing. Perhaps, it was only logical to look as good as possible. 

“Why a Vulcan would wear luxurious Andorian shoes? I thought they had a feud against each other,” he asked, confused.

“I don’t think Vulcans hold humans in high regard either,” Saavedra pointed out. “And good stuff, it’s good no matter who’s the manufacturer.”

“It doesn’t seem very logical, to be honest.”

“Nothing about this case is logical at all.”

“So… Vulcan uniforms and Andorian shoes. Noted,” Wyatt added and stood up.

He needed more coffee, so he headed towards the lunchroom. It was empty and he felt grateful for not need to awkwardly stand while waiting his turn.

He placed the cup and pressed the button. The coffee machine started to work and his mind rambled about the few details they had about the Vulcan at the bay.

Every single aspect of that case was extremely unusual. The victims were one of the most confusing parts. It was the kind of case an officer would remember long after being retired for its uniqueness and sordid details.

“Wyatt.”

The sound of his last name attracted his attention. He turned to face the source of the voice and saw his boss, Captain Richard Denisse, walking towards him.

“Captain,” he said lacking of a better response. Probably he wanted to ask about the investigation progress, which wasn’t really that much since they were still trying to extract information from the pictures. “Good morning.” 

“How’s your investigation going?”

“We’re still working on it, sir,” Wyatt replied and averted his eyes. He had been distracted thinking about the Vulcan clothing that the cup he intended to fill with coffee started to spill out and burned his hand. Out of instinct, he retired the cup and the exceeding hot liquid fell into the white tiled floor.

Captain Johnson lifted the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he apologized, handling napkins to unceremoniously clean the spilled beverage.

His gaze went directly to the droplets on the immaculate tiles of the floor. A wave of shame burned his cheeks when he acknowledged that his coffee had reached Captain Johnson’s black shoes. Probably, those shoes cost a week of his salary, compared to his cheap and simplistic shoes from the sales. 

“Stop playing around and get back to work, Wyatt.”

“Yes, Captain,” he answered.

With a fresh cup of coffee, he returned back to his desk. He allowed himself the indulgence of looking around, observing the busy personnel going in and out. The thwack of their shoes hitting against the floor, boots, Oxford shoes, mostly.

An idea popped up in his mind, as if were a revelation.

“Do we have pictures of the Vulcans at the temple?” Wyatt prompted, once he was back on his desk and placed the cup of coffee where it wouldn’t get spilled.

“Yes,” she replied, starting to click on her computer without rush. Saavedra opened a file where the pictures of the items were carefully classified. The screen displayed over thirty pictures of clothing and footwear.

“I don’t think this is relevant at all,” she stated and continued to slide between pictures, giving a quick look after the first six. “They weren’t using the same shoes.”

“Exactly,” he said, almost excited.

“I don’t get it. I do believe that this guy had some kind of connection with the Vulcans at the temple, but I don’t think we’ll find out the nature of their relationship by just looking at their shoes,” Saavedra said. “Expensive shoes mean that he was wealthy and probably, had a really good job to be able to spend on fancy stuff.”

“The design of the internal lining of his robe was different. It’s a little more complex and the colors are traditionally more difficult to produce, which made them expensive for sure, but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t think it’s just about the money. He had a ton lot of it, but the design could mean that he had a superior position.”

“No doubt. These shoes cost like over three thousand credits.”

“No, I mean he was… Like some sort of boss. I couldn’t find out, because my Vulcan, it’s nonexistent, but the colors used to tint the fabric of the past—At least, here on Earth—often indicated the position of someone within the social hierarchy.”

“That’s makes sense,” she conceded, her eyes still attached to the screen of the computer.

“Whoever he used to be… he was important.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek did not stop to think further about his father’s motives to extend an invitation for the end meal until he was being driven to the house he had grown in. It would be a lie denying that he was nervous because of the incoming meeting. Sarek had embraced his fate with all the consequences to come and started to consider himself a disowned member of his clan, accepting that he would never be allowed to come back ever again into the familiar ground. He had felt his family blocking their bonds to him and he expected them to be severed shortly after, but they didn’t. 

“Ambassador,” Varek’s soft voice forced him back to the present.

“Yes, Varek?”

“Your pin is misplaced,” Varek said, almost in a whisper as if he were telling a secret only to Sarek to hear.

Wearing the pin was another illogical decision. It was a desperate way to validate who he supposedly was in the eyes of his parents and the world. Also, as a gift from Amanda, it made him feel like she was around and present, standing by his side in support.

“Would you allow me to assist you?”

He nodded in response. Put it in the first place had been an unusually hard task and he didn’t want Varek to see him trying to fix it with a pair of clumsy, shaky hands.

The younger Vulcan pale hands gracefully directed to the golden shiny pin and gently, with care, placed correctly the accessory. Sarek noticed how Varek paused for the most ephemeral of the moments before facing him with a calm expression that almost resembled delight of some kind, but he was not certain.

“Thank you, Varek,” Sarek thanked him.

“I come to serve,” the young man said and bowed.

“Varek… Stay close.”

“As you wish, Ambassador,” Varek conceded and got inside the car.

Sarek stared at the façade of the house.

The house that was the background scenery of his formative years and early adulthood. It was lavish and as sophisticated as he remembered. It was exactly as when he left to serve as the ambassador to Earth. Nonetheless, the more he stared at the residency, the more unbelievable was being back. There was a moment of hesitation where he wondered if it was real and if he was really there. As he walked towards the house and heard the hover car left along Varek, he looked around as he had never been there before. Although, Sarek had grown up running around the garden as a very young child and had learned to meditate inside that property, it felt like a looking someone else inside a very vivid memory that he did not recognize as his own.

“Welcome back, Ambassador Sarek.”

How could he forget her voice? T’Leia had practically raised him. An overwhelming wave of nostalgia hit Sarek like a ton of brick, bringing his fussy mind back to the immediate present.

“T’Leia,” he said and his voice trembled out of emotion. 

"Councilman Skon is waiting in the garden,” she informed him.

T’Leia extended her arm, gesturing the way to the garden and, before starting to walk to the indicated part of the property, he simply added, “It was a pleasure to see you again.”

He observed the familiar portraits on the wall of the main hall, depicting several generations of members of his family. His eyes focused on the picture of his brother, Silek, standing by the side of the woman he had married four years ago.

Sarek felt absolutely out of place to that image and he was certain that he would never be there along Amanda, his bondmate, as every other member of the clan. His eyes stared at the image of his brother and sister-in-law. They seemed that they had affection to one another and Sarek found their marriage as a pleasant event, which made him resent the fact that Silek had not returned the well wishes.

Probably, his family wouldn’t even acknowledge the mere existence of any offspring he might produce in the future. That thought was disheartening, but he understood where they were coming from by taking that position.

Whether he wanted it or not, his actions would reflect directly on them as the logic extremists had assured.

There was no other option, and although he could have left, he didn’t because that wouldn’t be a logical move on his behalf.

He stopped for an instant at the frame of the circular door that led to the garden, building up the Vulcan façade of calmness and held tightly the restrains of his emotions. His heart started to pound against his will and no amount of concentration was effective to make him relapse. So, he pretended that he felt nothing and stepped outside the house, without knowing anything about what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much reading! I know I’ve been delayed, but I promise I’ll finish the story.  
> Special shout out to AmandaG96 and NixItAll for leaving a comment.  
> I really appreciate the time you take to read this story. Since I’m not a native speaker it takes me a little more to write a chapter than someone, whose mother language it’s English, but be sure that I won’t abandon the story. Please stay safe and see you really soon! Let me know what you think about today’s chapter.


	9. Family Affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to NixItAll, AmandaG96 and Homo_Vulcanensis for leaving a comment! :)

Officer Thomas Wyatt and Mara Saavedra headed to the Andorian shoe store. Which happened to be located at Union Square.

“We’re here,” she announced opening the door without hesitation.

Wyatt followed her, breaking through the busy crowd of people going in and out of the stores. He felt so out of place.

_Laikan._

They stopped for a brief moment and stepped in the store. They stood in the entrance, until a young Andorian clerk appeared to greet them with a subtle smile.

“Welcome, how can I help you?” he asked.

“We would like to talk to the manager,” Officer Saavedra said returning the gesture.

The clerk bowed his head, “This way.”

The store looked a lot smaller from the outside.

Wyatt observed every section of the store while walking their way to the counter, led by the Andorian. Both officers observed the quick exchange of words in Andorian between the two employees. Then, they were greeted by a middle aged woman who was less than enthusiastic to deal with any of them.

“Officer Saavedra and Wyatt. We have a few questions.”

“Oh.”

She nodded.

“Benoss, go to attend the clients, please.”

“As you wish.”

The three of them observed the young Andorian clerk walking away from the scene.

“We need some information about one of your clients,” Saavedra reiterated when the clerk was out of sight.

“Do you have an order, Officer? I’m afraid I can’t disclose any information regarding any of my customers without an order,” the woman replied in a cold tone, crossing her arms in a subtle defensive gesture that denoted an obvious lack of disposition to cooperate.

An old Andorian man emerged from the door behind the counter.

His face reflected evident annoyance. Which only became more obvious once Wyatt displayed his badge.

“ _What’s going on here, Sh’kovos?_ ” The man queried in Andorian to the female employee, while eyeing the two human officers in front of them.

“ _These officers want information about one of our customers, but they—clearly—don’t have an order._ ”

“Are you the manager?” Saavedra interjected, attracting the attention of the two Andorians to her.

“No, I’m the owner,” the man replied dryly.

“We’ve a few questions, Mr.… Laikan?” Wyatt added, trying to sound friendly and break the tension the Andorian manager had brought into the conversation.

“Mr. Sh’raoreq. I’m Zyte Sh’raoreq,” the old man corrected him. That assumption bothered him more than Wyatt thought it would. “Laikan is a place in Andor, kid.”

“My bad.”

“You humans never bother to look beyond your noses.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Sh’raoreq.”

“No big deal, kid. After thirty-one years off-world I’m accustomed to,” the owner of the store said in English, before switching back to a whispering Andorian, only to the manager to hear, _“Give Officer, San Francisco and California whatever they want_.”

“ _They don’t have an order._ ”

“ _I know, but_ _I don’t want these people around driving away the customers. Trust me, we don’t want them around for any reason._ ”

The officers watched the man returning from he had emerged a few minutes before. Once they heard the sound of a door being closed, the manager stared at them with seriousness.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you remember any Vulcan coming here?” Wyatt asked.

“They aren’t part of our frequent customers,” she responded in a flat, listless tone, before he could even start to describe the victim.

“Do you recognize this?” Saavedra pulled off her PADD and showed her multiple pictures of the expensive shoes of the victim.

The woman examined every picture as the officer shifted to the next and then, she nodded. “Yes, those are part of our exclusive Federation collection.”

“I told you.”

“It is an exclusive, time limited collection that the brand designed to commemorate the foundation of the United Federation of Planets. It features designs inspired by the four founding planets; Terra, Andoria, Tellar and Vulcan. This specific model you’re holding is the Vulcan one.”

“Okay, we get it. Very fine shoes.”

“I’m gonna be honest. We need some info about who might have bought these.”

The manager puckered her lips.

“Plenty of people buy here. Do you expect me to remember every single one of them?” she said in an evident defiant tone, forcing a smile, “Do you remember every single person you have talked to while working?”

“Let’s try.”

Saavedra exchange a glimpse with Wyatt.

“We’re looking for a Vulcan. Male, 1.90, young, in his twenties,” Saavedra pushed, for the Andorian’s displeasure. “Try to make some memory.”

“I don’t think I can remember anyone.”

“You sure?” Saavedra insisted. “These shoes are clearly from this store and you stated Vulcans don’t usually stop by. You should remember a Vulcan.”

“I don’t, Officer. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Well, this is a waste of time.”

“Thank you for your time,” Wyatt thanked her with an uncomfortable smile.

“Come back soon! And bring an order the next time.”

Saavedra let out a deep exhalation once they were back on the street.

“That was awful,” Officer Wyatt pointed out as disappointed as his partner. Saavedra had insisted too much and the manager was unwilling to cooperate. 

“No shit.”

“Do you know if there’s another store nearby?”

“Yes, I did my research,” Wyatt replied. “Those shoes are only sold on Laikan authorized franchises. The closest store from our current location, it’s in Anchorage, Alaska.”

“Alaska?”

“Yes. Andorians love freezing weather. I guess it reminds them home.”

“Sounds fair,” the female officer answered with a deep sigh. “We’ve got nothing.”

“Captain Johnson will be so happy to hear that.”

“Hey!”

Wyatt stopped and turned to face a young Andorian approaching among the crowd. It was Benoss, the sales clerk, approaching and making his way among the busy crowd.

“Officer, San Francisco.”

“Hello.”

“You were asking about a Vulcan, right? It’s hard to hear from the ties section.”

“Yes. Do you remember a Vulcan buying these shoes?” Saavedra showed him the picture and after a few seconds, the stranger nodded in agreement.

She looked back at Wyatt with excitement.

“I don’t know if he’s the person you’re looking for, but it’s the only Vulcan that has bought something since I’m working there and I’ve been working at Laikan for three years,” Benoss started. “There’s a Suraki Vulcan that occasionally shows up and buys a lot. He bought those shoes a while ago, but I don’t remember the exact day.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Vorik. His friend called him Vorik twice when he was there.”

“Any last name?”

Benoss shook his head.

“Unfortunately, no. He always pays on cash, but I took a picture of him,” he said and extracted his phone from his pocket. “Do you wanna see?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

It took Wyatt less than a few seconds to confirm that it was the same person.

The Vulcan was wearing a similar robe to the one he was found. Although, the first time he had seen him was after being a considerable amount of time under the water, Wyatt was certain it was the same individual.

The form of his ears was very particular and a recognizable physical trait.

“You can take a picture of the screen if you want,” the young Andorian man suggested with a subtle smirk on his lips.

“Thanks.”

“Why did you take a picture of him?”

“I was ranting to a friend the last time he came over. We were making fun of him.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s always alone, but the last time he came along with a friend.”

“A friend?”

“I guess. The friend was a little younger, I think, because of his attitude. Even though, they look like the same age, but you never know with Vulcans. Also, he bought him a _really_ expensive pair of shoes,” the clerk explained. “It was the Terran model of The Federation collection. He spent around 13,700 Federation credits in one sitting that day.”

“Do you know who the other guy was?

The Andorian shrugged, nonchalantly.

“I don’t know. He was here once and he was nice, to be honest. As nice as a Vulcan can be, of course.”

“Why would you help us?”

“Because he’s… what you humans call an ‘asshole’ to service employees like me. I’d be more than glad to ruin his day or his week.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

“You should never assume that no one speaks your language. Even customer service employees of an illogical and inferior species like me,” the sales clerk said and disappeared in the crowd, back to the store.

“We have a name and a picture. We just need to figure out who the hell killed him.”

Saavedra exhaled and then added, “If our guy could gather all that resentment on a sales clerk he met a few times… Anyone could’ve killed him.”

“Perhaps. Look like he was _very_ lovely.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

T’Mirek had taken the time to charge the phone that she found in Velekh’s apartment. It was clear in her mind that the device didn’t belong to her friend. Because it was very expensive, and Velekh was always reluctant to engage in the indulgence of acquiring luxury items.

‘ _It is illogical_ ’, he had said once, when looking at the TV in her apartment one morning while Varith did breakfast in the kitchen. ‘ _Nobody needs such overpriced devices_.’

‘ _Consumerism_ ,’ she had answered with a shrug.

She spent most of the day looking the phone charging in the wall, although she had work to do.

It felt like an eternity.

When the animated battery on the black screen was fully illuminated in a bright green color, she disconnected the phone. Her eyes examined the device, before trying to turn it on after a brief moment of hesitation.

The colorful logo of the manufacturer company popped up on the screen. Then, a keyboard with Vulcan characters appeared over the picture of the urban view of a city she didn’t recognize, but was unmistakably Vulcan.

_Introduce password._

She tried common combinations of numbers, but was unsuccessful.

She would need help with that, and standing in the middle of a store wasn’t an option. She had no proof that the phone was hers. Also, she didn’t want to spend her day trying to convince a total stranger she was an idiot who had forgotten the password of her own phone.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

“Hi, Robert,” T’Mirek said once Velekh’s neighbor opened the door.

“Do I know you?” The human asked with a clear expression of confusion, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m T’Mirek, Velekh’s friend. Don’t you remember me?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” he replied, after stopping to observe her. “Uh, what do you want?”

“Hum. I need some help with… my phone. Velekh mentioned that you’re good with technological stuff and… I forgot the password… my password. Silly me,” T’Mirek said, chuckling with a tense smile. “Can you help me to unlock it, please? I don’t wanna stand on the middle of a store explaining to a stranger that I forgot the password of my own phone and look like an idiot.”

“Okay,” Robert agreed and moved aside, opening the door. “Wanna come in?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

She stepped inside the apartment with reluctance. All the apartments of the building were exactly the same, but Robert had managed to make his place a lot smaller than it actually was by accumulating a lot of things.

The walls were covered in disordered clippings and pictures, just like Velekh’s apartment. She could notice that a few of them were pictures that he surely had taken himself, because it differed a lot from the professional ones depicting places. 

“How’s Cat?” She queried, with her eyes attached to the only picture where the person seemed to look directly at the camera.

It was the image of a young Vulcan man standing in front of a luxurious-looking clothing store.

“He’s good. Thanks for paying for the cat food,” Robert answered from the kitchen, while pouring water in two glasses.

“No problem.”

He placed the water on the small coffee table and turned off the old fashioned TV playing an Andorian show.

“Can I see your phone?”

“Oh, yes. Sure,” T’Mirek answered handling the phone to him. 

“Have you found Velekh? I miss him, to be honest.”

“So do I,” she answered, taking a seat on the sofa in the middle of the living room. “But we haven’t got any updates on the case. Detective Wallace said he would call us.”

“They’re just a bunch of useless pricks who get paid to drink bitter coffee and play around pretending they’re working.”

“Have you heard of him? I know you guys are kind of close.”

“Yep, we are. Velekh and I share a special interest on old technology. Nowadays everything, it’s so… shiny and unnecessarily stylized,” he said, gesturing the phone she had brought. “It’s all about looks over functionality. They’d rather sell you a very appealing phone which you’ll need to replace in six months.”

“Certainly.”

She sighed.

“Can I ask you a question, Robert?” T’Mirek prompted, while she observed the human holding the phone in his hands.

“Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“Hum…I noticed that Velekh was… is…” She rasped, trying to word the question as innocuous as possible to not cause offense. “I noticed he has things on his wall and, I don’t want to come across as rude or anything, but I noticed that you have a similar one your wall.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a theory.”

“A theory?” she repeated.

Robert eyed the clipping on the wall, absorbed by the pictures and then, looked away. 

“I’m not a paranoid if that’s what you’re thinking. I know these things are always perceived as the product of insanity. You know… People always think that clippings and pictures without context on the wall means that you’re going crazy and you’re out of touch with the reality surrounding you.”

“No, I… I didn’t mean to insinuate that,” she replied, “I’m just trying to understand Velekh. I… uh…”

Robert seemed to meditate for a moment when he finally spoke, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“Velekh was woke,” Robert said without hesitation, looking directly at her eyes.

She could notice how confident was in his own words, as someone who’s stating an irrefutable fact. 

“What do you mean by ‘ _woke_ ’?”

“He knew things. I know that you and the other guy believe that he’s delusional and mental, but I can assure that he’s not.”

“He told you about-”

“I saw them myself way before meeting any of you. No one believed me until Velekh,” he cut her off. “Earth is a planet in conflict. So is Vulcan, but nobody wants to accept it. How you all can sleep knowing that those crazy extremists are strutting around the Federation?”

“Don’t mean to offend you, but I’m Vulcan and I know how a logic extremist looks and…”

“Do you think they will just come and say “Hi, I’m a logic extremist and I despise your existence’? No, of course they won’t.”

“That would be very stupid.”

“Exactly.”

T’Mirek sighed and drank the water at once, placing the empty glass on the table.

“You both need to stop babying him,” Robert said in a quiet voice, concentrating on the phone. “Your boyfriend came over here like if he were looking for his ten-year-old son who had run away from home after an argument. Velekh’s not a kid, he’ll be fine wherever he is.”

Varith had told her what Robert had said about Velekh the first time he visited the apartment. He had assured that the human had told him that Velekh was scared for some reason, but now he seemed to have a different attitude towards the entire situation.

“He has been lost for over a month,” she let him know.

The lack of worry on that fact was astonishing.

“Did he ever told you what he was doing while he was gone?”

“No.”

“Of course he didn’t.”

“He was in his apartment,” she assured.

“Did you assume it or he told you that?”

T’Mirek stayed quiet.

She had assumed it. Actually, they had assumed almost everything about the escapades, by taking into consideration a few things Velekh had said after those episodes of silence.

That last statement was completely different from what he had already said to Varith. The tone had changed a lot since the last time Varith had spoken with him. T’Mirek wanted to question Robert further, but she knew that she had pushed him enough and she required his help with the phone.

“Here you go. It’s done.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” 

She headed towards the door when Robert said, “Don’t go to the store. They’ll know right away.”

“Excuse me?” She turned to face him.

“If you don’t wanna get caught, you shouldn’t go to the store.”

“I don’t get it.”

“That phone clearly isn’t yours.”

“Uh… No, I’m just silly and have a very bad memory. Not every Vulcan has eidetic memory… that’s all.”

Robert nodded, processing her words.

She swallowed, standing awkwardly in the door frame.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

“ _Logic advocate Balev is ‘alive and recovering’ assures second in command,_ ” said the alien anchorwoman on the screen and changed the channel once again.

Everything on the Vulcan programming catalogue was beyond boring and watching the news only to hear the awful state of the galaxy while working wasn’t the most appealing of ideas. 

He finally chose the Terran Nature channel, which was equally boring, but with a lot less discouraging content.

The lights of the room grew less intense and flickered.

Scott looked up out of instinct, noticing how the energy seemed to be struggling to remain and keep the lights of the room on. Surely, it was a consequence due to the high amount of energy required to maintain the temperature, lights and all kinds of function of the hotel to adjust to off-worlders who had a low tolerance to the heat of the Vulcan summer. 

With a heavy sight, Scott clicked a random key to bring back to life the screen of his computer.

He had finished drafting the responses he was assigned to and he needed to proofread them. The minimalistic logo of the cloud service appeared on his screen and then, then displayed all the files and documents he had stored there.

He clicked the most recent one.

At the very end, there was a tiny blue line under the final word. He narrowed his eyes and laughed when he noticed that, just after the full stop was located a Vulcan punctuation symbol floating there without a motive.

_ Last edit was made five hours ago by Scott Langdon.  _

He obviously didn’t edit the file.

He had taken a very well deserved break from the work and had spent the day at the bar, talking with that Andorian man from the elevator. So there was zero chance he had opened the file during the day.

Also, if he wished to write in Vulcan, he needed to switch the keyboard manually because he had English by default.

**Details**

**General Info**

**Size** 22KB

 **Location** Drafts

 **Modified** 5:43PM, Jul 31

 **Created** 3:25 PM, Jul 18

He observed the hour, confirming that he couldn’t be the one who modified the file.

Immediately, went to the main page and clicked on the details of one of the replies Varek had assured where ‘deficient’.

**Details**

**General Info**

**Size** 39KB

 **Location** Drafts

 **Modified** 2:33 PM, Jul 7

 **Created** 9:22 PM, Jul 3

 _My phone_ , he thought.

The device was still lost and that was the only way someone could access his files. He had the cloud account opened there and he had forgotten to close it.

It made sense.

That's why the files were poorly written when he opened them on his computer. He supposed that Varek had accessed through his phone and made modifications.

It sounded very stupid.

Did he ever think that he would simply check the details? Varek should think that he was a really stupid human and he wouldn’t notice.

No, it was absurd. Varek was a Vulcan follower of Surak. He was supposed to manage his life and performance based on pure logic and sabotaging the work of a co-worker lacked of logic in every single aspect. It wasn’t justified by any means, which raised doubts.

Varek was rude and perhaps, a little biased against humans, but willingly put effort in such disloyal move was a whole different thing beyond the expectable—and tolerable to a certain extend—dislike Varek could have gathered against him.

He put aside the doubts.

Who else could be then?

Varek had been around and inside his room, with plenty of opportunities to steal his phone. Also, he had been hostile towards him from the very beginning.

Closing the account from his laptop would alert Varek.

So he didn’t.

Scott was determined to expose him. That would damage Varek’s curriculum for ever, but he had started everything without provocation.

However, he needed solid evidence and, if Varek hadn’t stopped to consider him in the slightest, then he had no obligation to extend any kind of consideration while gathering evidence.

If he wanted to play dirty, then so could he.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

The garden of the house was his favorite part of the property.

The beautiful view of the urbanized neighborhood mixed with the colorful flora was appealing to say the least.

He had very pleasant memories of his older brother Silek reading short passages of _The Teachings of Surak_ in High Vulcan and trying to teach him how to meditate when he was too young to even understand why he had to repress his emotions.

Sarek stopped to observe the sehlat house that once belonged to I-Chaya.

He felt a wave of sadness to remember that he wasn’t there to say farewell to his childhood pet. Which was an illogical sentiment, since his very presence wouldn’t have made any difference to the outcome.

I-Chaya would have died anyway and he should accept it as such.

He continued to dive into the garden, following the line of the stone paved walkway that led to an area where they often share meals together as a family. When the circumstances allowed it and his parents weren’t busy.

At the end of the path, his immediate family was waiting for his arrival on the same square shaped table where they had shared so many meals together through his life.

“Sarek, welcome.”

The soft, yet serious intonation of his mother made him feel unease.

“Ko-mekh, sa-mekh… Silek.”

“Take a seat, _sa-kai_.”

Sarek eyed the empty chair at the table and complied.

His eyes examined the decoration on the table and then, to all the presents.

“I am honored to receive this invitation to your house.”

“Your house as well,” Skon corrected him. “You are still a member of this family and part of the clan, sa-fu.”

The sound of the paid employees of the house serving the dishes of Vulcan food while placing the cutlery according to the customs of their culture. Vulcan mollusk sautéed in Rhombolian butter for his father, _gespar_ sweetened _balkra_ for his mother, small pieces of Vulcan _kap_ filled with _dyrk_ cream and topped with _mun_ sauce for Silek and a steamy bowl of plomeek soup for him.

Sarek’s eyes turned to the plomeek soup in front of him and the sole smell of the clear broth made him hungry for the first time in days. Probably, offer him that specific dish was some sort of gesture to express their will to make amends, because that dish was always his favorite since he was very young.

However, comparing his plain and simple soup to the elaborate and complex dishes of Vulcan cuisine that his parents and Silek had been served made him remember that stage of his life when every single person would treat him with condescendence because of his age.

As a child, Sarek often wanted to grab objects, walk around and venture to taste the _adult_ food that his brother and parents consumed.

“I am not fond of partaking in pointless, idle talk. Therefore, honoring our ways, I will tell you why I asked your father to invite you today.”

Sarek gave a nod and T’Kin eyed her older son and husband before continue her speech, “We are concerned for your safety, Sarek.”

Silek and Skon stayed quiet.

“A lot has transpired since your… bonding with Ms. Grayson,” T’kin said, while Sarek took a spoonful of the broth, with the eyes on the liquid.

“Indeed.”

“Son,” Skon interceded to direct Sarek’s attention to his mother.

“Yes, father?”

When he looked up, he realized that all the broth in the bowl, which was not exactly small, was already gone.

“As your mother had stated, we are concerned for your safety and the safety of your Ms. Grayson.”

That uncharacteristic emptiness of the house was abnormal. Sarek was sure it was on purpose once he stopped to think about it and he should have known when he stepped in.

He blinked, realizing that the invitation was an intervention.

All of a sudden, he became conscious of the way they had elected to arrange the positions on the table. T’Kin, Skon and Silek were seated on one side of the table, as the united front they were, and they had left an empty chair placed on the opposite side.

That arrangement resembled the way that the High Council presented themselves during an audience. Always in a position of unity and superiority, which had all the intention to intimidate.

Sarek admitted to himself that it was working and he felt insecure and weak.

“Why is that?” Sarek ventured with caution.

“It is evident. The logic extremists are _displeased_ by your election of bondmate. They disagree, but we all are aware that this… tendency of Vulcans taking human mates it is not a novelty,” Skon started.

The only noise around the garden was the one from the afternoon wind brush the flora and the sound of the neighborhood in the distance.

Sarek observed his father thinking for an endless moment his words, until he spoke again, “However, the displeasure comes by taking into consideration that you are an active representative of the government of our planet and, overall, a representative of our species as a whole.”

He swallowed and wiped his hands on his robe.

His palms were sweating out of nervousness.

Whatever Sarek could say wouldn’t make any difference. His family already had a conclusion and he was beginning to think that they didn’t intend to debate. Instead, they were hoping he would accept their word and opinion as the only reasonable take on the matter.

“My private life does not interfere with my capacity to fulfill my duties as an ambassador. It is illogical to focus on an aspect of my personal life that has no impact on my professional performance.”

“Logical,” Silek interjected and despite how neutral was the tone of his voice, there was a subtle hint of condescendence. “I would agree with your point of view if you were holding a different position. Unfortunately, as an ambassador, it is expected of you to represent the values of our people.”

“I do agree with your brother’s assessment, but there are additional motives to be concerned for your physical integrity. Aside from the public reaction and the implications of being a representative to the exterior.”

“You are aware we do not approve your choice of mate,” T’Kin added with a flat tone.

“I am well aware.”

He would never forget the disappointment on the face of his mother upon hearing the announcement. T’kin had asked him if he was attempting to be humorous and pointed out that if that was the case, he was being unsuccessful.

That exchange had hurt Sarek more than he ever thought someone could hurt him.

“Our disagreement is not merely based on prejudice, as you concluded.”

“The last time we spoke you, you left and chose to not listen what we—your family—had to say about the situation.”

“I did listen, but I am an adult and I am capable of taking decisions on my own.”

“You have proven otherwise, Sarek,” Silek said and Sarek felt the that old sensation of discomfort and chest tightness he hadn't experienced since he was an uncontrolled, emotional child.

_Anger._

“I did _not_.”

Silek’s eyes focused on the wedding ring in his hand.

“Marrying that human female was clearly an attempt to defy our parents. I know you, brother. You were very displeased by the prospect of leaving the Vulcan Science Academy and abandon your ambitions to pursue a scientific career to enroll into the Diplomatic School and, you expressed an even greater reject towards the idea of being assigned to Earth,” Silek stated with a calm demeanor. “It was your wish to inflict the same displeasure by acting illogically.”

The anger turned into burning rage.

He wanted to voice the fact that Silek had chosen to marry a different woman that his intended bondmate. An action frequently frowned upon and considered as an act of rebelliousness within the traditional environment they had grown up.

Thus, Silek was as far from being the perfect role model as much as he was. 

“An incorrect assumption, based on pure speculation,” Sarek replied, struggling to remain stoic. “I did not agree to be assigned to Earth, but deciding to bond with Amanda it is not related in any way to that situation.”

“You may say that, but your course of action states the opposite.”

“Correlation does not imply causation, _Silek_ ,” Sarek countered, restraining his irritation.

The slightest gesture would prove his family right.

“I concur. Nevertheless, your pattern of behavior and deficient impulse control has led you to take illogical decisions time and time again,” Silek said with such calm expression that make Sarek even more difficult to remain indifferent. “You do not take any advice no matter how reasonable it is. You manage yourself based on your emotions and instincts.”

Sarek narrowed his eyes and Silek arched an eyebrow that felt like a slap in the face.

“I do not, but it seems like— regardless of what I can say—you are determined to remain attached to what you have already concluded.”

Sarek drank the water in his glass to lessen the lump in his throat.

“What will you do when your Time comes?” T’kin queried with coldness, taking a sip of her tinted beverage.

Sarek did not answer the question.

The _pon farr_ was a taboo topic and, he didn’t wish to discuss that matter with his mother, father or brother, let alone the three of them at the same time.

“Did you ever stop to think about it?” She insisted without changing her tone to a more severe one.

“Are you that irresponsible and immature to endanger her life on a whim of yours?” Skon questioned and Sarek could hear the disappointment in every syllable of that sentence. “We raised you to be better than that, sa-fu.”

“She will not endure you during the _pon farr_.”

“I am capable of controlling myself,” he countered in a slightly trembling voice.

He breathed.

Being that close to the almost empty soup bowl was sickening to him, but not as unsettling as facing the disappointment and disgust from his parents towards him.

“You are young. You have not gone through the worst of it yet.”

“We have tolerated your immature and illogical behavior for a long time.”

“I am not a child, mother.”

“If you expect to be treated as an adult, you may act as one before. Your demeanor has been unacceptable and you should be aware that plenty of people are disowned for less than what you have done.”

Sarek put aside the bowl.

He had no intention to consume he remains of the soup and he felt like doing would be degrading in some way.

“I-”

“Let mother finish,” Silek cut Sarek off.

Sarek looked eyes with his brother, as if he were expecting some sort of sympathy from him.

“You are endangering both of your lives. Yours by risking yourself to rely on a mate who does not comprehend the Vulcan nature and hers, by exposing her to the possibility of physical and mental damage during your time.”

Sarek feigned to get up from his place to leave.

“Sit down,” Skon commanded, and Sarek did as he was told.

“You need to end this tantrum now.”

“We have provided you with plenty of time to reflect on your own and allow you to make what is correct and logical.”

“Correct and logical,” Sarek echoed.

“You shall dissolve your union and return home, where we will find you a suitable mate.”

“No,” he responded at once, shaking his head. “I will not.”

Suddenly, he was hyper aware of himself.

It was like being trapped in a very vivid and distressing dream. Anything of his surrounding felt real, but the emotions running through his entire being were a reminder that he was wide awake.

“We will not force you to return,” T’kin indicated, lowering her eyes and focusing on the bowl of plomeek.

Her seriousness had quickly turned into coldness and apparent indifference.

It was a façade.

Sarek had seen her act like that the only time he ever saw his mother feeling emotional, right after the perish of her sister.

“There is a standard you need to hold yourself as a member of this family. The same standard we, as Vulcans followers of Surak, are required to hold ourselves.”

The anger faded away. That emotion was promptly replaced by an oppressive feeling of apprehension.

“You have two options and you shall make an election. Here and now,” Skon stated with severity.

It took Sarek all his emotional self-control to not reflect his feelings towards the situation and the prospect of such petition. He truly loved Amanda and it was his wish to remain together for the rest of her lifetime, which he thought it was an innocuous decision and a matter only concerning to himself.

“I cannot,” Sarek mused, only to get ignored.

“You can stay and, by staying, you agree to dissolve your… _union_ with the human and accept the mate we elect to you or you can leave,” Skon paused, to focus his sight on Silek and T’kin for validation. When the Vulcan woman nodded, he continued, “If you decide to leave today, this will be the last time you will be allowed within the limits of our family and clan's property.”

Sarek froze in his chair. He had been making an effort to no display any emotion during the exchange, but now he felt unable to think or speak.

He wondered if they were really asking him that question, but once again, their severe faces reaffirmed that it was happening.

He was disgusted and regretted eating almost the entire bowl of soup. 

“What is your choice?”

_Stay or leave?_

_Amanda or his family?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while, but I’m back.  
> I’ve just learned the difference between lie down and lay down. Again, I fixed a few things and took a little bit of my free time to learn more about this language and how it works.  
> It’s really important to me make this story as readable as possible. I’ll be constantly modifying the previous chapters, so the next time you come across the story, some mistakes will be already fixed!  
> I’ll be updating monthly, but If is possible I’ll do it as soon as possible. 
> 
> This is a breaking point. There's another one left before the events on the summary take place. Fortunately, it won't take much time since a lot has been already established.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and stay safe!


	10. Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to NixItAll, AmandaG96 and Homo_Vulcanensis for leaving a comment!  
> Also, to everyone who left kudos.  
> Thank you so much to okdreaming, PleadingEyes, ElspethMcGillicuddy, Amaeliss, LaughingLion and the guest readers :)

“We share a bond,” Sarek declared solemnly, refusing to look his family in the eye.

His mother exhaled almost quietly, but he could hear her disappointment loud and clear as if she had screamed even though she remained stoic.

Sarek was aware of the implications.

He had put himself in a gruesome situation, bonding with Amanda despite being aware that it was against all logic or common sense. He had done it encouraged by impulse and raw emotion. He had allowed his feelings to cloud his judgment, which was unacceptable and a serious transgression within his culture.

Silek was observing his movements and he knew, that his brother could notice he was unwilling to left Amanda.

“You will regret such decision,” Silek stated, as if he were able to hear his thoughts from the other side of the table.

“It may seem that we are troubled by the absence of logic in your decision making, but that is not the case. The reasons why our people do not usually remain in lasting relationships with non-Vulcans are clear, Sarek,” T’kin said.

“It is not a matter of prejudice or presumption.” Skon stared at Sarek and kept talking, “Surak—in his teachings—, emphasizes the importance of respecting diversity and tolerate the differences of others. However, you must understand that this type of uncertain union implies danger for your physical integrity, as well as hers.”

Sarek looked down at the empty bowl of Plomeek soup next to him, as he heard and reflected on his parents’ words.

“If uncertainty is dangerous—even among us—, can you imagine what uncertainty can bring to you and to an innocent woman who does not understand what she has become involved in?”

There was a pause, as if they expected him to say something or show some sign of agreement.

All he did was exhale quietly.

“It can be undone,” Skon said, breaking the silence.

Such suggestion horrified him and he felt threatened. Severing a marital bond was one of the most traumatic experience a Vulcan could endure and Sarek did not wish to live that horror himself.

“What is your choice?”

He looked at the three of them, hoping they would give up all that. The determination of his family radiating through the bond of mind they shared felt like a scorching burn in the back of his mind.

His stomach twisted.

Accepting the invitation had been a mistake, although refusing it would surely have been a loss as well. In either case, he lost out.

“Long life and prosper,” he said back, holding the _ta’al_ in farewell.

Although he showed no emotion, he did feel his shared bond being torn apart. Everyone present had felt it, but none of them let it be seen.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

The car he traveled a few kilometers before Sarek could finally wake up from his lethargic state.

The sensation of unreality had completely faded away, leaving behind utter confusion and incredulity. At the beginning, he thought he would break in front of his family and would prove them right. Nonetheless, in an unexpected turn of events, he had held himself decently enough to coldly make his election hear.

He had left and now, he was disowned.

“Ambassador,” Varek’s quiet voice broke his concentration.

“Yes, Varek?”

“You are trembling,” he voiced out loud with a stiff expression, and then added, “Are you ill? Do you require medical assistance?”

Sarek clenched his fists, trying to contain the tremor in his hands, but it wasn't working. He soon realized that he was shivering because he was feeling overwhelmed by the recent exchange.

A wave of shame hit him.

That kind of reaction was common... in Vulcan children who had yet to learn to regulate their emotions. He was not supposed to react that way, and the fact that his aide could notice it made him feel exposed and humiliated.

“No,” he answered.

There was a moment of silence, where Sarek remained still while Varek observed him as if he was trying to figure out what it was actually happening to him. 

“Emotionality is part of our nature, Ambassador,” Varek said, turning to look at the window.

 _Was he trying to comfort him?_ Sarek wondered while he blinked, confused.

“Indeed,” he agreed.

It was, but they weren't supposed to show it freely.

That's how things were and would continue to be.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

T’Mirek had been observing the device on the counter of the kitchen since she had arrived to her apartment.

It wasn’t late to put it back where she had found it.

Still, she felt the need to take a look. Mostly, because she was curious what it was important enough to hide it inside a mattress.

No matter what, she had already crossed a line by taking the phone to someone to unlock it. Perhaps, taking a look at the content of the phone wouldn’t do any harm.

The main door of the apartment opened and she assumed was Varith arriving.

“Varith.”

She looked up for a moment to acknowledge Varith’s presence and when back to watch the phone lying on the counter, unable to decide.

“Are you well, T’Mirek?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“What are we supposed to observe?” he asked, confused.

T’Mirek was absorbed by the device, deeply concentrated on thinking what she should do next.

“I found this phone in Velekh’s apartment,” she said in a quiet voice.

“This device doesn’t belong to him.”

“I know.”

Varith took a seat next to her.

“What do you want to do?”

“I have no idea,” She said in a quiet voice. “It is prying into personal belongings ever justified?”

“Under certain circumstances it is understandable.”

It wasn’t.

“I feel like…I don’t know. I’ve become too emotional, when I used to be the most logical of us. You were the one who wanted to leave and I know that without you, I would’ve endured a life of misery in Vulcan for the sake of tradition.”

Varith took the phone and examined it.

“You still are,” he answered. “You were correct about the way I was approaching Velekh’s disappearance.”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

“I do not understand why finding this device troubles you to this extent.”

“It was hidden in his mattress and locked. I went to his neighbor’s place and he helped me out with that.”

“Pardon?”

“What is so important to keep it hidden like that?”

Varith reflected on this while observing the device.

T'Mirek felt conflicted about the situation, but curiosity made her want to take a look.

Varith had tried to get rid of that feeling that it was his duty to find his friend and relegate that task to the authorities as T'Mirek wanted. The appearance of that phone rekindled his thirst for answers about Velekh's sudden disappearance.

“There is only one way to determine it,” he said, without taking his eyes off the cell phone.

“I don't know if I want to know.”

He stayed silent.

“But you do want, don’t you?”

She looked at him, knowing how much he longed to see the content.

“I do,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

“So, you look and tell me what's in there.”

Without waiting another second, he picked up the phone and searched.

“What do you see?”

“Phone numbers.”

“Anything else?”

“In the gallery there is a photo of a landscape of our planet and another one of a baby _sehlat_. Just that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, the rest of the cell phone is empty,” he said, still holding the phone in his hands, scrolling through the numbers. “The contacts don't even have names of people, just a number in Vulcan. One, two, three..."

T'Mirek noticed the disappointment in his eyes and was puzzled by it.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Amanda scraped the remains of sardine from the can with eagerness.

She was hungry and canned sardines had never tasted that good. Especially with a steamy cup of recently brewed coffee.

She looked up once there was nothing left and placed the empty can on the counter.

Her mother, Tabitha, was visiting for the first time in months. On the regular, Amanda was the one who would drive all the way to her house to visit. Whenever she had invited her mom to visit her at her house, something had emerged or she was suddenly preoccupied.

Amanda suspected that Tabitha was there only because Sarek was off-world.

Her mother, as almost every member of her family, wanted to interact as little as possible with Sarek. Despite they had never voiced out loud that position, their actions were enough to deduce it.

“There’s no food in this house,” Tabitha stated in disbelief, closing the refrigeration unit at once. “When was the last time you bought groceries, Amanda?”

“I don’t know. A week and a half ago,” muttered Amanda.

Lately, she wasn’t in the mood to go out and get groceries. The simple task of putting on something to go outside seemed exhausting and not worthy at all. Everything she wanted to do was to hide until the world was quieter and friendlier.

“You need to eat better food than canned, processed stuff,” she said, scandalized eyeing the empty can of replicated sardines in tomato sauce.

“It’s not _that_ bad, mom.”

Tabitha turned to face Amanda, who had been watching her hovering around the kitchen. She was evidently annoyed by something Amanda was not aware of. 

“What?”

Tabitha gestured the entire place with her arm. Amanda realized that the living room was an utter mess and she hadn't bothered to take care of the place since the cleaning employees had been there.

“Amanda… Are you okay?” she asked her as he held her by the shoulders, as if the slightest touch would break Amanda to pieces.

“Of course I’m okay,” she replied. “Everyone has lazy days, mom.”

“You’ve changed a lot since you got married… Your sister and I are worried about you.”

“I’m the same person, mom. My current life is not that different,” Amanda replied with a smile. “Actually, isn’t different at all.”

“You left your job,” Tabitha pointed out.

Amanda closed her eyes for a moment, deducing where Tabitha wanted to lead the conversation.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this,” Amanda replied, slightly annoyed. “I explained to you why I took that decision. I had to quit because it was no longer possible for me to stay there after all of this went public.”

Tabitha puckered her lips and Amanda sighed audibly once she noticed her mom was looking at a picture of her wedding on the wall. The fact it was her favorite picture only increased her annoyance towards the conversation. 

“Mom, that decision had _nothing_ to do with Sarek,” she insisted, despite being fully aware that her words would make no difference in Tabitha’s perspective.

“Are you sure?” Tabitha said, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course I am. It was _my_ decision.”

Tabitha crossed her arm in her chest and leaned in the counted, facing Amanda and shaking her head with disapproval.

“Well, I’m not saying he forced you, but-”

“But…?”

“You don’t know if he used his… _Vulcan_ _magic_ on you.”

“Vulcan magic? You gotta be kidding me.”

“I heard that they… _the Vulcans,_ have this mind control powers and when they touch you, they can control you.”

Amanda laughed loudly, but her smile quickly faded away.

Tabitha was serious about whatever she had heard about Vulcans and that was discouraging. It was saddening to realize that her family was unwilling to accept the fact that she had married Sarek because she loved him. 

“Sarek doesn’t control me, mom.”

“I brought something for you, Amanda,” she announced, and started to dig in her black purse with eagerness while Amanda watched.

Amanda let out a sigh, defeated.

“I printed it for you,” she said, offering the paper to Amanda, who took it with reluctance.

Amanda held the piece of paper, exchanging a glance with her mother. She unfolded the sheet and read the head title in bold black letters.

“‘ _I’m in love and in danger. Ten signs of an abusive relationship_ ’. Mom, I don’t need any of this,” Amanda said, holding the paper. “Sarek’s not abusive.”

“Amanda, dear… _Just_ … _read it_ ,” Tabitha pushed with a soft condescending voice.

“Mom, you’re misunderstanding _everything_. He’s not anything like this paper says.”

Tabitha walked towards Amanda and held her shoulders, looking at her as if she were completely in denial.

“You quitted your job, Amanda. You were very passionate about it! You used to be hovering around the neighborhood pretending to be a teacher when you were a kid. I remember that you said you wouldn’t quit after getting married because you are your own person and then, this… _he_ appears and you, out of the blue, left everything behind to be at his service.”

“I’m not at his service.”

That statement unnerved Amanda.

The press was determined to portray her as either a petty gold digger or a poor woman incapable of taking decisions on her own, sometimes a combination of both. However, her own mother believing that was unbelievable and rather offensive. 

“It _looks_ like it. You quitted your job, you barely visit your family, you stopped seeing your friends and when you appear in public, it’s always standing by his side as if you weren’t allowed to take a single step without his approval,” Tabitha countered. “He’s taking over you… alienating you from everyone.”

Amanda fathomed a smile of frustration.

She had decided she wouldn’t be going out to avoid the harassment and protect her mental stability. Now, that was being used by her own mother against her, which felt like a slap across the face.

“It’s _not_ like that in the slightest and you know it.”

“Any of this reflects well on him, Mandy,” she said. “You’re here, isolated in this house and where’s he? Out there, living his best life and keeping you inside his very well decorated cage with those pointy-eared jailers to watch you.”

“Do you want to really know what I’m no longer doing any of that?” Amanda queried, evidently upset.

Tabitha stayed quiet, wearing an expression of pure worry.

“Because people can’t be respectful in any way towards me. I went to Elizabeth’s place and do you wanna hear what the idiotic prick she married asked me?” Amanda continued with a much more moderated voice tone, to appear less defensive than at the beginning. “He wanted to know if Sarek looks like a human… _down there_.”

Tabitha gasped in horror.

“How can I expect decency from strangers when my own family and colleagues can’t hold themselves?”

Amanda took a deep breath, feeling drained and emotionally exhausted. They had had that conversation before with small variations, but the outcome was always the same.

She was tired of hearing the unsolicited questioning and the speculations about her marriage. Amanda often wondered how many years needed to transpire in order to be able to live a common life as a married woman, without rumors of any kind.

“You would rather believe he might be abusing me than accept that you don’t want him in the family because he’s not your choice of son-in-law.”

“We don’t have a problem with him, Amanda,” Tabitha replied with a tense smile, as if that gesture would make her forget how much the entire family had opposed to her decision to marry Sarek in the first place.

“Oh, really?”

“He’s not in his best disposition to be part of this family either.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation. I’m tired.”

“Do you even know what is he doing on Vulcan? Because seems _very_ fishy to me,” the woman countered. “He’s the Ambassador _to_ Earth, doesn’t he? _Why_ is he off-world?

“He’s working.”

“Hum.”

“That’s what ambassadors do.”

“The Terran Ambassador _to_ Vulcan resides _in_ Vulcan. His job is to stay there as a representative of our planet and people-”

“Earth isn’t the center of the universe nor the standard,” Amanda interrupted her.

“Did he— _at least_ — ask you to go with him?”

Amanda said nothing.

“Have you stopped to think why, Amanda?”

“No.”

“Perhaps, you should ask him.”

Ten minutes later, Amanda was alone again.

Her mother had left, but had given her something to think about. She was definitely going to ask Sarek the next time they talked on video chat.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

_“…I’d say that Vulcan, it’s a planet in conflict. It’s hard to accept it, because we look at them as the example of absolutely rightfulness, but the truth is that they aren’t as perfect as we thought they were._ ”

“ _Definitely, yes. Vulcans are humanity’s older space sibling. As in life, the older you get, you learn to recognize the flaws of everyone around you._ ”

“ _They’re going through that inevitable phase of cultural change, where a part of the population is openly challenging their own traditional practices. Humanity has surpassed that phase—to a certain degree— and despite, we as a race, are really far away from perfectness… I’d say that we’ve learned a lot more to tolerate opposition and contrary ways living_.”

“ _There was a time where humans vanished everything and everyone that was different. We have the witch hunts, The Inquisition trials, all kinds of persecution practices._ ”

“ _Just look at the V’tosh Ka’tur Vulcans. They can’t stay on Vulcan the time being! It’s unbelievable that a planet that it’s part of The United Federation of Planets, let alone one of the founding members, allows persecution nowadays_.”

“ _I’ve had the opportunity to interview a few members of the Thon-tor ozhika organization and their stories are terrifying. It’s like the Vulcan version of The Inquisition!_ ”

“That assessment is illogical.”

“Uh, what?” Scott stopped to mindlessly eat his small plate of French fries and turned to meet Varek’s eyes. “Did you say something?”

Regardless how much Scott believed Varek disliked him, he still was always around when he intended to eat.

“It is illogical what your human fellow has said,” Varek repeated, calmly. “Vulcan it is not a planet in conflict as they assure.”

“Oh.”

V’tosh Ka’tur were a controversial topic in Vulcan.

He found Varek’s point of view as dismissing and tone-deaf since the hostility towards non-Surak followers was well-known.

Otherwise, Earth wouldn’t be full of disowned Vulcans.

“There is no persecution. Suggesting that Vulcan mirrors human illogical doings, it is misguided and hyperbolic,” Varek stated in a cold voice. “It is pure projection.”

Although they were not expelled, the reality was that they could not reside in peace on the planet. Eventually, leaving Vulcan was the optimal choice, if they aspired to decent lives where their mere existence was not a constant reminder of what Vulcans disliked about their own very nature.

“Perhaps we are not that different, Varek,” he teased him feigning an innocent tone.

“I disagree,” he replied in a serious tone, taking a sip of his glass of water.

“Well, people are entitled to their opinions,” Scott replied, adding more ketchup to his already soggy fries.

Varek glanced down to his election of food and he almost could tell how disgusting the Vulcan found the fact he was eating using his hand.

He immediately grabbed a fork after cleaning his hand with a napkin.

“Free speech exists. You can think whatever you want, no matter how stupid others think it is for others,” he added casually.

Varek stopped to observe him trying to catch a French fry with the fork.

“Only because a small group of Vulcans assures they have faced persecution, does not make it true. Also, anecdotal experiences tend to focus on personal perceptions and emotional conclusions.”

He bit his tongue.

His need to point out the lack of logic in denialism was powerful, but arguing wasn’t appealing to him.

At that moment, he wondered why would Varek take a job where he was forced to be outside of the bubble he was born into. Specially, since he seemed defensive and dismissive of everything that wasn’t part of _the Vulcan Way_.

“The universe forbid diversity of opinion.”

Varek remained quiet, directly looking into Scott’s eyes.

Perhaps, he had gone a little overboard with that remark. It was apparent that he was being labeled as intolerant and prejudiced.

“Anyway, it’s none of my business,” he said almost in a whisper.

“Precisely,” Varek concurred, “ _‘None of your business’_.”

Scott slowly nodded and laughed as if he was supposed to find such reply as humorous, only to receive an arched eyebrow from Varek.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Coroner Josie Vázquez had sent the autopsy details to Officer Mara Saavedra the day after their visit to Laikan. Turned out that the deceased Vulcan and the missing one were not the same person. Which wasn’t as surprising for Wyatt as it was for Saavedra.

Wyatt had seen a few pictures that the friends had attached of the guy and they were different from groups. He would categorize them as somewhat hostile towards each other, because they were located on opposite extremes of the spectrum of Vulcans. A Vulcan like the victim wouldn’t be around a bunch of V’tosh Ka’tur embracing Terran customs and disregarding traditional Vulcan values on the daily.

Also, he had asked Drew for a little bit of help after realizing they had almost no information about the victim.

Fortunately, someone had reported a Vulcan man with the same characteristics.

“Good morning.”

“Look at this,” Wyatt said with his PADD on his hand and an enthusiastic expression once he saw Saavedra arriving with a steamy cup of coffee. “The clerk was right. His name’s Vorik.”

Saavedra’s eyes widened and put the coffee on her desk.

“Vorik… _st’sss_ … I can’t pronounce that.”

“Me neither. Vulcan last names are difficult to pronounce for off-worlders,” he explained.

Saavedra sipped her coffee.

“I wanna hear everything you’ve got.”

Officer Wyatt took a seat and started to read the information in his hands, “He lives in an apartment in Nod Hill in a building called Interstellar.”

“Where did you find this? A few days ago we had nothing aside from a picture in bad quality and a common Vulcan name,” she queried with a smile.

“Drew found it when I told him about our case.”

“We’re so lucky that your husband works on the missing person’s department.”

“Yeah. He saved us that week and a half of them not wanting to cooperate and us insisting until they gave us the information.”

Saavedra’s PADD chimed and she took it, to open the file with eagerness.

The file displayed three pictures, two headshots with a very professional-looking as if were taken in a studio and full-body one. She zoomed in in the full-body one, where he seemed to be in some sort of social gathering, surrounded by a group of people.

“Who reported it?”

“His co-worker, Nila Halkyone. She reported him as missing three days ago,” Wyatt said, reading the information from her PADD and pointing out a middle aged woman in the one of the pictures.

“It looks like she’s important. She’s the only human there,” she said. “Where did he work?”

“Lake Hotels & Restaurants Group.”

“I can't imagine a Vulcan working in that kind of industry,” she said. “I know that customer service can be overwhelming. So it's probably a little less pleasant for such calm people. Customers can be jerks just because they think paying gives them a pass to be one.”

“You make it sound like he was the waiter at some restaurant where spoiled rich guys hang out. But he wasn't,” Wyatt replied. “This place where he was living is not cheap. And according to the Andorian guy in the store, the victim spent his money like it was Black Friday every day.

“Where it’s located?”

“In the Financial District,” Wyatt answered. “It’s a company dedicated to hotels, spa’s, resorts, among other kinds of customer services. According to what I found on the internet, it’s all over The Federation.”

“It makes sense. Union Square is to the south and the Financial District is on the east of Nod Hill.”

“What do you wanna do first?”

“Let’s get an order for the apartment and _you_ speak with the co-worker first.”

“Sounds great.”

“I’ll do the paperwork.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

“Mrs. Halkyone will talk to you in a minute, Officer,” the young receptionist said and Wyatt bit his tongue, repressing his need to reminder her that he had been waiting ‘ _a minute_ ’ for over twenty minutes.

That waiting room alone was a lot more expensive than everything he owned.

His eyes examined the place in an attempt to lessen his increasing boredom.

The decoration was minimalistic and simple. Except for the intricate design of the background of the company’s logo in a font he found strange. Perhaps, that detail was just a novel decorator trying to be original and pretentious by using a non-Terran font as an aesthetic.

“Are you here for the interview as well?” The man by his side asked.

Wyatt exchange a confused look with him, until he finally understood the question, “Uh, no.”

The stranger exhaled relieved.

“Oh. I thought you were here to take a job. I’m glad I don’t have to compete with you. I can’t believe I’m here,” the man continued talking, more for himself than to Wyatt. “I’m sorry. I’m just a nervous wreck. I tend to speak a _lot_ when I nervous… I’m very nervous right now.”

“Are they hiring?”

“Yeah. There are plenty of vacancies now,” the man explained. “From _sous_ chef to top positions like-”

“…the one you’re applying to.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Renard,” the receptionist called in a monotone behind the counter.

The stranger almost jumped to stand up, adjusting his tie with excessive force.

“Oh, that’s me.”

“Good luck, buddy.”

“Thanks.”

Wyatt sighed once the man was out of sight.

He was frustrated.

The case wasn’t exactly going anywhere and he suspected it would end up being another unresolved case with unsettling details. One of those disturbing mysteries he would regret not figure it out later in life, like many officers.

He had spent his night reading the file and watching the victim’s pictures. Which would normally say a thing or two about who they used to be, but he couldn’t tell anything about the Vulcan.

Those photographs only indicated that he had once been alive and nothing else.

“Officer, Mrs. Halkyone is waiting for you in her office.”

“Thank you.”

The hallway that connected the waiting room with the woman’s office was long and as far as he could see, there were a few empty offices.

He stopped in front of an opaque glass office and softly knocked on the door.

A middle-aged woman opened the door, wearing a subtle smile. She was the same person who was standing by Vorik’s side on the group picture attached to the file.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Halkyone.”

“Officer Wyatt, welcome. Please take a seat,” She said, gesturing the chair in front of her desk. “I apologize for the waiting.”

“It is no matter.”

She forced a smile and stayed silent.

“I’ve got a few questions,” Wyatt stated awkwardly.

For some reason, the silence inside the office and the clinical appearance of the place was unsettling.

“He’s dead, right?

Wyatt stopped to look up.

“Uh...”

“That’s why you’re here, don’t you?”

“How do you…?”

“You are not from the missing person’s department.,” She pointed out.

“He was found in the bay,” he admitted with a solemn tone.

The same one he used every single time he had to communicate such news, to the people who had known the victim.

The announcement didn’t seem to impact her in any way. As if he were talking about the weather and not about someone she had interacted with on a daily basis.

“Hum.”

“Why have you decided to report it now?”

“Protocol,” she answered calmly. “I assumed he had a valid motive to not show up at work. When you’re in the top—like me or like him—you can do pretty much whatever you want and nobody’s ever gonna question you if you get the job done on time.”

Perhaps, the fact that the victim was Vulcan was also the reason that nobody had questioned his absence. Vulcans were perceived as rightful beings devoted to their duties.

“How was your relationship with Vorik?” he prompted.

She leaned in her chair and her eyes focused on the view.

“To be honest, I don’t know pretty much anything about him. Vorik was very Vulcan in that regard,” she started to explain, letting out a deep exhalation as if making memory was difficult. “He never engaged in any of the social protocol nonsense. No small talk on the elevator, no polite questioning about personal life matters he didn’t care about or that nonsensical friendly bullshit everyone here on Earth wants to pull out to appear polite. That’s why I liked him as a co-worker… I cared about his personal life as much as he cared about mine.”

“Did you notice anything before his disappearance? Did he say something unusual or act strange?”

“Hum, I would say no. He was always… _consistent_ in his demeanor. He was the kind of man who didn’t seem to be easily moved by anything or anyone.”

“Was he close to anyone here?”

“Maybe his assistant, but I don't think it was personal in the least.”

Wyatt wrote it in his PADD while the woman observed the stylus pen moving in his hand.

“May I speak with his assistant?”

“He hasn't shown up for work since before Vorik's disappearance,” she explained. “We did not hire another one at his request. He said it wouldn't be necessary the time being and that he would then take care of hiring someone, but I guess he didn't get around to it or didn't want to.”

Why would she know that information if they were not close? It sounded like the kind of thing someone would complain about with a colleague in the elevator or in the hallway.

“Did he mention any reason why this assistant left so precipitously?”

“No, he didn't say anything and I don't think he knew much more than I did,” she replied. “I heard one girl complain that Vorik had granted Storik a few days when she had been denied a paid leave to vacation in Florida. I asked Vorik about it, but he told me that Storik had returned to Vulcan without saying anything.”

That was unusual.

A job abandonment was something that didn't happen without a good reason behind it. A Vulcan abandoning a job and duty without reason was hard to believe. However, judging by what she said, it didn't seem that she or Vorik really knew why the assistant had left.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“At work, like a month ago. I’m not sure. He was here and we exchanged a few words, but I didn’t actually pay attention. It was a like every other morning for me. I didn’t think that would be the last time we would see him alive.”

It made sense, though.

He didn't seem like the kind of person who would be the victim of a crime of passion. Perhaps, he was not related to the temple incident. The only reason they believed there was a connection was that extravagant robe that was a product of the traditional intricate couture of another planet.

Still, the theory about the uniforms bothered him more than he would like to admit.

“There’s any dress code here? Like a uniform or something of the sort?”

The woman seemed to find that inquiry strange, but amusing because she half laughed.

“Of course not. We are to wear formally, but the company is very vague about it since plenty of people from different cultures and planets work in our establishments. The dress code directly depends on which planet you are.”

The sound of someone knocking on the door attracted Nila’s attention.

It was the receptionist standing at the doorway, holding a folder in her arms.

“Come in,” she indicated, making a hand gesture to emphasize her request.

“Mrs. Halkyone, the applications you requested.”

“Thank you, Lila.”

The phone in the desk started to ring quite loudly. She smiled and got up, taking the device, and walking towards the door.

“Oh, excuse me. I really need to take this call, Officer.”

The assistant placed the printed applications on the desk. Wyatt stayed quiet in the chair, observing the woman speak trough the phone.

The young woman had left the application close enough to pry from his place.

The small rectangle in the corner or the first application was the picture of a very young Vulcan male.

_Tavek_

Wyatt settled back into his seat, unlocking his PADD once he heard Mrs. Halkyone's high heels in the hallway, walking back to the office.

“I apologize, Officer,” she said, entering the place.

“No problem.”

She smiled at him and arranged the papers before placing them in a drawer in her desk.

“Vorik and I had this in common, Officer. We both found something special in the old fashioned paper.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Sarek knew someone had been inside his room.

Every item in his room was not in the exact position it was before he left. However, his belongings weren’t placed on a completely different location either, just a few centimeters away from the original place.

Roughly, five centimeters to the left.

His eyes ran through the room.

He opened the closed, noticing the same phenomenon. All his robes were slightly moved with precision, which annoyed him.

He sighed audibly and started to return his clothing to the original position. 

The irritable sound of the high-pitched phone on the wall attracted his attention.

“ _What is your choice?_ ”

“Pardon?”

“ _What is your choice_?”

“Father?” he asked, holding the phone firmly.

The line went silent and he carefully hung up, while taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

He didn't sleep that night either.

In the morning, everything was back in place because he had spent the night rearranging every object or item in the room. After a brief moment of observing the room, he was disturbed by how much that event brought him inward reassurance after realizing that he had wasted valuable hours of sleep on something lacking in logic.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Scott had waited and waited, but the file only changed once since he noticed that someone had edited it in his name.

The Vulcan punctuation symbol disappeared not so long after he noticed that it was there. Despite he was certain that the text would be modified as soon as he shared it with Varek, it didn’t.

Ambassador Sarek still hadn’t mentioned anything about it, but he was sure that Varek had accused him a while ago. He could only speculate about what the Ambassador would think about it. He wanted to drop the topic, but the reality was that Varek seemed to be there to get him fired.

The last night, after Varek and Sarek came back from whenever they had spent most of the day, he had heard the generic Terran rooster sound he had as a ringtone. Later, his mother scolded him through video chat for not answering her calls.

He was certain he had heard his phone ringing in the hall at least twice, but he wasn’t sure.

Actually, he wasn’t sure about what exactly was happening around him and that was the issue. Perhaps, he was starting to make stupid conclusions based on nothing, because he felt unsettling how everything seemed to have gone to hell since they arrived to Vulcan.

He had already bought a new phone, but he wanted his old one back. He had stored there plenty of personal pictures he didn’t transfer to any other device and the sole prospect of Varek scrolling through his private memories was embarrassing at best.

Varek was taking breakfast with Ambassador Sarek, and Scott was completely sure he wouldn’t be back with a considerable amount of time. Of course, Varek wouldn’t lose the opportunity to breath the same air that Sarek.

He had excused himself and walked back to the floor where their rooms were located.

He leaned in the corner of the elevator far away from the doors.

A very stupid idea had started to take over his mind the last couple of days, after he remembered the existence of a few photos he had been taken in a prominent state of inebriation, at a time when public self-humiliation seemed like a great idea— and mildly reasonable—if fun was the reward for it.

He wanted to break into Varek’s room and search for his phone.

The elevator doors opened wide.

From there, he could observe the lonely main corridor of the floor. At the end, the Ambassador's room was located, and on either side of it, were Varek's room and his room as if they were guarding it.

He started to walk and stopped in front of the door of Varek’s room, observing the electronic doorknob, wondering how he would break into it.

“Good morning,” the voice of a Vulcan man with a flawless Standard greeted him.

He was standing on the opposite side of the corridor, despite how clear he had heard his voice.

“Good morning,” Scott replied.

The man didn’t answer and turn on the vacuum cleaner in his hand. He was a part of the cleaning staff, according to the uniform he was wearing.

He was about to go into his room and spend the next five hours in front of the computer, putting aside his desire to break into his co-worker's room when he heard it again.

That annoying generic sound he had designated as his ringtone.

He sharpened his ear and could hear it again, muffled by the door. He was not sure exactly where it was coming from, but it must have been Varek's room, as the others were empty and sealed off. No one was supposed to be there for safety.

Scott looked at the doorknob and then his eyes went back to the Vulcan man who had returned to cleaning the orange carpet covering the floor.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“Do you require any assistance?”

“Hum… I forgot my access card inside my room. Could you open the door for me, please?” he asked in Vulcan.

The man nodded. He saw him turning off the vacuum cleaner and reaching a small card access he had in his pocket, while walking towards the human.

Scott gestured the room and stepped aside.

The employee examined the door and locked eyes with the him for a long minute. He tried to look as innocent as he could, as if he weren’t attempting to break into a co-worker’s room.

The Vulcan shook his head slowly and he added in a quiet voice, “ _Not_ your room.”

He observed how the employee unlocked his actual room.

“This one is _your_ room.”

“They look all very similar, don’t they?” he added with a tense smile. “Thank you.” 

“I come to serve.”

“Your service is appreciated.”

He went into his room and reproached himself for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An apology for the delay. There were many unforeseen events, but I am happy to return with a slightly longer update than usual. 
> 
> I've never been to the States, let alone San Francisco. I'd like to say since I'm foreign, some details about the actual city where this story takes place may be inaccurate.
> 
> I wish happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating. Best wishes and stay safe.  
> See you next year! Thanks for reading and being here, I really appreciate it :)


	11. What a Small Quadrant

A room dedicated to meditation did not sound so out of place, considering that they were in Vulcan. It was early morning, so it would be empty. Therefore, Sarek decided that leaving his room to meditate might help him focus and get out of the containment.

He hadn’t been able to meditate properly since his arrival to Vulcan.

Vulcan was his home planet.

Shi'kahr was the city that had seen him grow up. Perhaps, it was illogical, and too emotional to expect him to feel a certain way about being back in his hometown. But the otherness he conveyed was bizarre.

It felt exactly as it did when he was assigned his position on Earth. So alien, different and unpleasant.

It was almost as if he had never been there in his life.

“May I join you?”

Varek’s whispering voice broke Sarek’s rambling thoughts.

He wasn’t actually meditating.

He was sitting in the middle of the room. Staying in his room had acquired an unsettling undertone, since he firmly believed someone had been there without his consent.

“Of course. This is a public space,” Sarek replied.

Varek shook his head and added in a whispering voice, “I do not intend to disrupt your meditation, but stepped in unannounced it is not appropriate either.”

“It is no matter, Varek,” Sarek said without facing his assistant.

“Thank you.”

Varek positioned himself at the other end of the room and he felt forced to observe him.

He looked so balanced and in control of himself that Sarek felt a twinge of jealousy.

When Varek opened his eyes, Sarek noticed that the clock on the wall indicated that an hour and a half had passed. He had spent ninety minutes observing the void without being able to even spin a coherent thought.

“Are you well, Ambassador?” His youthful voice sounded like a screech that brought him out of his lethargy.

That poisonous feeling of jealousy vanished as soon as he saw a glimmer of confusion sparkle in Varek's dark eyes.

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?” Varek insisted, examining him with inquisitive eyes.

Sarek suppressed his desire to ask him to cease looking at him like that.

“Why the insistence?” Sarek replied with defensive tone.

“Your complexion has gradually become paler since you first arrived. It would be beneficial to your state of health to visit a physician,” he said in a flat tone before leaving the room.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

“Why nobody reported his disappearance?” Detective Wallace queried, after hearing his husband, Thomas Wyatt discussing his current case with his friend and partner, Mara Saavedra.

His case seemed as stalled as his own. So, Wallace understood the frustration that came as a result of being at one dead end after another.

“His co-worker did,” Wyatt answered, turning to acknowledge his presence.

“No. I mean, like a friend,” he insisted. “If you were to disappear, Mara would notice it. So, as a friend, she would try to— _you know_ — check on you to know if you're okay.”

It was strange. It always seemed to him that Vulcans lived on the outside of any potential problem. He was not even sure that he had ever heard of anyone having to write a single Vulcan name on a police report prior to that year.

“He has a point. Why didn't anyone report it before his co-worker?”

“She said he was very secretive,” Wyatt remembered her.

“Yes, he was. But secretive doesn't mean asocial,” she countered. “The Andorian boy told us that the last time he was in the store he was with a friend.”

“We don't know if they were friends. The guy didn't seem to be the friendliest person in the universe.”

Saavedra nodded while drinking the remains of her canned drink.

As far as Wallace knew, from what he had heard both of them talking, the victim had bought things for the so called friend. Therefore, they must have had some kind of relationship.

It was strange that he had not been reported missing until his colleague noticed.

He may have been a rude asshole, but he was not an asocial being. Like the majority of the people, regardless of species.

“You both said he bought this guy expensive shoes. I wouldn’t be paying shit for anyone unless I care about them.”

“I totally forgot about that,” Wyatt admitted serving himself another serving of _Wonton_ soup.

“We will have to look for this friend of his. All we know about him is that he’s young, Vulcan and he knew this guy,” Saavedra said. “If we discard the V'tosh Ka'tur, it could still be anyone.”

“How do you know he wasn't one of those?

“His photos tell me he was a Suraki Vulcan. So, it's logical to think that he only hung out with people like him.”

“You don't know that,” Wallace intervened.

“Have you been to the alien district? They're like water and oil!” Saavedra remarked.

“That doesn't mean enmity,” Wyatt said.

“We don't know that either,” she argued. “There’s no way he was messing around with emotional Vulcans. Just take a look at the pictures. He was career focused.”

Wyatt sighed in frustration.

“This whole case is a nightmare,” Wyatt complained, observing the screen of his PADD going dark. “Nobody knows _anything_ about him. The guy was a fucking Vulcan ghost. If it wasn't for the fact that we saw him, I'd start thinking he never existed.”

“Did you search his apartment?” Wallace asked, by swallowing a portion of noodles.

“No, not yet,” Saavedra answered, shaking her head and taking a spoonful of her food.

“We'll get the warrant in a few days, but I bet you what you want we'll go, we'll check the whole place and won't find anything.”

“You don't know that.”

“I hope I'm wrong,” Wyatt said, standing up to get another soft drink from the refrigerator.

Saavedra followed Wyatt with her eyes. When he disappeared behind the doorway, she turned to Wallace.

“What about your case? Tom told me that you were also assigned a case of a missing Vulcan boy,” she inquired.

“Pretty much the same. His friends reported him missing a month after he was last seen,” he answered stirring the noodles in the bowl half-heartedly.

Wallace had almost forgotten that his almost was also stalled. Likewise, it seemed that the missing person had vanished from the face of the Earth without a trace.

Like a ghost.

A _Vulcan_ ghost.

“Oh.”

He watched the noodles move in the broth and thought about the boy.

 _Where could he have gone? Would someone have taken him away this time?_ He wondered.

There was no answer to those questions… _Yet_.

“His friends were very vague about it, but I think he had untreated mental illness,” Wallace said. “One of them mentioned he was seeing things. I don't know if he meant it literally but, if I'm honest, I think I'm looking for a body. Usually these kinds of cases don't end well. There is a strong possibility that he committed suicide.”

“That's terrible.”

“It is,” he agreed.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Amanda woke up agitated, but relieved to know that Sarek was alive somewhere in the universe.

Maybe, she shouldn't have seen the news before she went to sleep. Her days were reduced to worrying about things she saw in the media and drinking two-day old stale tea with the curtains drawn.

Recent bad news indicated that an extremist had immolated himself and killed fifty people on the Terran moon two days ago. This time, it was not a children’s school, but a university focused on language learning.

At first, she had thought it absurd, not to forget how horrible the act itself was.

However, after remembering that they were seeking to ensure the cultural and ideological purity of Vulcan, she acknowledged that the learning of alien languages could be perceived as external contamination.

She could even see it reflected in Sarek and the Vulcans at the embassy.

One of Sarek's aides, T'suk, had left to embrace the emotion like a V'tosh ka'tur. Amanda had witnessed how the outside influence had changed her to the point where she decided to give up everything that she had been taught was the right way to exist. That was often considered the only way to be a Vulcan.

When her agitation subsided, he turned to pick up her phone and check the time.

Amanda looked at the last message she had received from Sarek.

She clicked on the tiny red heart-shaped emoji on the screen, only to realize that she had not responded.

 _Sarek,_ she typed and hit sent. Then, added a smiling face to appear casual.

A small bubble in the chat indicated that Sarek was writing.

 _Ashayam_ , he replied.

The loneliness and silence of the house had given her enough space to form hundreds of scenarios in her mind. This only fed Amanda’s growing impatience with the situation.

 _When are you coming back?_ she wrote without much thought _._

There a moment where she assumed Sarek was writing and them, his response popped up in the screen.

_I do not know. The Vulcan High Council did not provide me with that information. I must wait for the arrival of the ambassador._

Amanda exhaled, forcing herself to sound rational.

_Are you sure?_

_Yes._

She narrowed her eyes, realizing how bright the light of the screen was.

She looked around and realized she was completely surrounded by darkness. She covered herself with the brown blanket in her bed and replied.

_Don't you think it's strange that you were asked to travel so far in advance?_

There was hesitation again and then, he answered;

_Those are the orders I received._

But she pushed.

 _You are the ambassador to Earth_ , _Sarek_.

Amanda could almost hear her mother’s voice questioning Sarek through her the same way she would do to her. She felt a stab of guilt, but she still wanted to know.

_I am aware._

As if her mother had taken the phone away from her, she continued the interrogatory.

_Why didn't you ask me to go with you? You have to go back, Sarek._

Amanda regretted the way she had worded it. She sounded demanding, almost controlling.

_I will do so when the mission is over._

Amanda meant to write 'okay' and put the subject aside, but by the time she realized it, she had already written and sent an answer as persistent as the previous one.

_Someone else can do that._

_No. The Council assured that the ambassador expressly asked the Federation to speak to me. Otherwise the negotiations would be cancelled._

_Why?_

The chat window indicated that he was typing and then, silence. As if he didn't know what to say about it.

_I do not know._

Amanda frowned.

She looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and realized that it must be late there. She typed a short goodbye message and left the phone in the drawer.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

In summer, Shi'kahr did not differ much from those tourist destinations in the tropics of Earth that humans from less arid areas enjoyed visiting so much.

Sarek didn't understand it.

It seemed to him that it was another one of those illogical things that humans like to do. He didn’t see anything enjoyable about being in a place which environmental characteristics differed so much from those of his birthplace.

It was clear that that time of year had arrived. That afternoon, he realized how many foreigners there were when he returned from another social event he did not want to attend.

He looked around as he waited for his food and noticed a human woman looking straight at him.

Human tourists were less cautious.

Sarek could’ve sworn that he had seen a group of young people take a picture of him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention in the lobby. It never bothered him before. But for some reason, that time it felt like he was an exotic specimen inside a zoo on Earth.

He looked away and concentrated on the basket of Vulcan bread that the waiter had brought him. He felt like leaving to dine alone in his room, but that would mean having to go to the counter and cancel his order, which felt like a very awkward move.

Normally, he enjoyed eating with his aides, but the last few days he felt jaded by so much unnecessary social interaction. It was exhausting enough having to attend all kinds of boring events while waiting for the arrival of that alien Ambassador that the Vulcan High Council stated would only talk to him and no one else.

They hadn't even bothered to tell him the name, but he didn't mind. It was not his job to ask any questions, only to follow orders and to serve his people.

“Terran tomato soup,” the waiter said in a flat tone, placing the white bowl of steamy soup in front of him.

“Your service honors me,” he answered in a quiet voice.

The soup smelled like raw meat and the natural red tint of the Terran tomatoes made it look like Sarek had ordered a bowl of human blood. This vision was repulsive to him. The pieces of tomato in the broth only accentuated that feeling.

On the regular, he found the subtle, acidic taste of that dish pleasant compared to the overwhelming excess of flavor in most Terran cuisine. For some reason, everything tasted awfully. Also, he felt unable to eat almost anything without feeling sick afterwards.

The smell of the juicy filet of the man on the nearest table made his stomach growl. Sarek realized that he was indeed hungry, but not for bland and boring vegetables floating on a bowl of tasteless acid broth.

He caught himself craving a piece of meat.

He observed the human man cutting the soft flesh with a shiny piece of clutter. Sarek feel unable to look away when the man was cutting the flesh with such care. It was a rather satisfactory experience realize how smoothly the sharp knife slide on the flesh like Terran butter.

"It is everything on order, sir?" A young Vulcan waiter asked. "May I offer you anything else? A drink? Bread?"

Sarek was slow to understand that the waiter was addressing him. It took him a couple of seconds to look away from the other diner and turn to talk to the waiter.

"Oh," the waiter said. His face changed to a subtle apprehensive expression once he realized that Sarek was drooling for a piece of meat. "That dish contains meat, Ambassador."

Sarek looked the waiter in the eye with a hint of annoyance.

The humans at the adjoining tables would not have noticed because of the subtlety of the change in his expression, but it was an obvious gesture from one Vulcan to another.

“I do not require anything at this time,” he finally said.

The waiter bowed his head and disappeared among the crowd, back to the kitchen.

He forced himself to sit upright and took a spoonful of his tomato soup.

True to his prediction, it tasted horrible. It was as if it was bitter, salty and insipid at the same time. It tasted like a raw tomato. Even when it was of a deep reddish color, and he was convinced that this tonality became that vegetable with the proper cooking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could discern the stare of a diner at a table full of human tourists.

Sarek looked back and the man looked away, as if he had been burned by that gesture.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

Dr. Kayla Trent was straightforward, in a way that was comforting.

Varith asked himself why he hadn't taken therapy before. At first, he had been uncomfortable with the prospect of getting too personal with a stranger. In the end it had been liberating in a very strange way.

“He said that he recognized his voice.”

“Whose voice?” she prompted.

“The voice of the extremist who bombed the Terran Children's Institute.”

Varith had not stopped to think about it after reading it for the first time. That phrase had returned to him after a horrible night of nightmares after skipping meditation for days. The prospect of Velekh recognizing someone who had done something horrible like that made him wonder what kind of people he had been surrounded by in his early life.

“You said in a previous session that Velekh shared this information with T'Mirek, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did she say?”

“That I was projecting my problems and I wanted to think that they... that they were here.”

“What do you think about that?” the therapist asked. “Do you think this is true?”

“That there are extremists here?”

The therapist nodded.

He folded his hands in his lap, meditating on that inquiry for a moment.

“Perhaps,” he said, uncertain.

The truth was that no one could be sure of anything. There was no sign of extremists, but neither could he prove anything that had not happened.

At that point, perhaps not even Velekh knew. It didn't matter how confident he was of his ability to distinguish extremists from ordinary traditional Surak followers.

“Have you seen them?”

He shook his head, as he saw his own distorted reflection in a decorative piece composed of a series of round mirrors of various sizes that was next to him.

“No, but... I do not think Velekh was lying.”

But that didn't mean that Velekh had actually seen it either. It only meant that he believed that he had seen them or that they were on the planet living among them. Especially when nothing indicated that there had ever been an extremist on Earth.

Velekh was fucked up.

Varith didn't know what had happened to him. But he had seen with his own eyes the consequences of whatever it was that scared him so much that he sent everything to hell and left Vulcan.

It was the kind of thing that fucked up someone's perspective on the world for the rest of their life.

“I am not sure if there are extremists here on Earth, but I do know that they have extended their jurisdiction.”

That was a conclusion he had taken on his own, way before Velekh’s claims about extremist on Earth. The incidents had started to take place different locations and it was terrifying to think how easy they could blend in everywhere and nobody would notice something was wrong until it was already too late.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

Varith stared at her, almost confused. He had plenty of motives to make that assessment, but it was difficult to verbalize it.

“The recent attacks are in areas farther away from Vulcan. I think they have understood that it is not sufficient to maintain a ' _pure_ ' home planet. Balev said that they could not tolerate external interference.”

“What do you think it means?”

“It rather obvious,” he pointed out.

“Elaborate, please,” Dr. Trent asked him.

Varith nodded and took a moment to word what he wanted to say.

“We are volatile, Dr. Trent. You humans have a say, ‘ _war is what happens when language fails_ ’. They have been speaking against The Federation—since it is perceived a constants source of negative outer influence—and they have realized that speaking is not enough to stop said contamination.”

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

T'Mirek had been editing articles from the social section during weeks. It was boring as hell, but at least she didn't have to read a bunch of bad news over and over again.

She realized that somehow Varith had tried to repair Velekh as if that would fix his own unresolved issues. It hurt her to think that the two of them could have done something more to help him. Nonetheless, she was aware that they had barely been able to adapt themselves to living on a completely different planet where they would never fully fit in.

Varith would be in therapy during that afternoon. So, she thought an afternoon of leisure with her friends wouldn't hurt, to clear up some of the depressing atmosphere that Velekh's disappearance had brought into their lives.

Stonn, true to his snobby tastes, had chosen one of those restaurants that served tiny portions of food on huge plates located on Pacific Avenue. She had even dressed for the occasion, wearing Terran-style makeup, a dress with a heart-shaped neckline and a pair of golden earrings.

The way the lady at one of the tables at the other end of the restaurant was looking at her was making her nervous. Perhaps, she was seeing her because she was alone, covered in tattoos or because of her pointy ears.

For some reason the natives of Earth were very curious about the shape of their ears. Even though they were physically very similar.

When she saw Stonn in the distance, she breathed out with relief.

“T’Mirek,” Stonn greeted when he arrived, followed by T’Leia, Sasek and another woman she had never seen before. “And Varith?”

“He couldn't come. He's a little busy. You know, writing stuff.”

Stonn seemed to understand what he really meant and nodded without further insistence. He was the only person who knew that Varith had decayed after Velekh's disappearance.

T'Mirek turned to the unknown woman and waved to her.

“Hello.”

Stonn stepped aside to let her pass so T'Mirek could get a better look at her. “I brought a new friend. I hope you don't mind.”

T’Mirek shook her head.

“Not at all. The more the merrier, right?”

“This is T’suk,” Stonn indicated, holding T'suk by the shoulders. “T’suk, this is T’Mirek.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

T'Mirek looked at her and felt like she was seeing herself twenty years earlier. T'suk was young and still seemed to be slightly intimidated by the chaotic style of the Earth.

“Same,” she said.

Everyone took a seat at the table and a waiter quickly brought more menus to everybody.

It did not go unnoticed that T'suk was absorbed, watching the place and the other diners with curiosity.

“Have you just arrived on Earth?” T’Mirek queried, without wanting to sound too invasive.

“Oh, no,” T’suk answered. “I’ve been living here for a while. But I'm a neophyte V'tosh ka'tur.”

“T'suk used to work at the Vulcan embassy,” Stonn said, leafing through the menu.

“Really?” T’Leia asked, arching a curious eyebrow.

  
T’suk nodded, while placing the cutlery in the left side of her plate.

“Yes, I was one of the ambassador's personal aides.”

“Wow. It’s a small quadrant,” Sasek said, clear bewilderment in his voice.

“I now work at the firm with Stonn.”

“She helps us in the writing department,” Stonn added.

“It's very similar to the work I used to do with the ambassador. The other assistant and I were writing, reviewing, and sending official written responses to other diplomats on the regular.”

 _That must have been a stressful job all around_ , she told herself as she set the shiny silverware on the table.

T'Mirek was curious about what her life had been like before she decided to give up everything for a worldly life on Earth. Of all the V'tosh ka'tur she had met in her two decades on the planet, none had worked for the government.

“I hope you are enjoying this new job,” T’Mirek said, trying to sound friendly. “When I arrived, I was lost. The good thing that you had been living here for a while. For me it was all at once. New planet, people, language and job.”

T’suk nodded. Meanwhile, Stonn and Sasek where speaking between them, pretending they had any idea of what _Gnocchi_ or _Fettuccine_ meant.

“Mrs. Grayson and my ex-colleague helped me a lot to understand what life on Earth is like. The transition has been relatively easy thanks to their efforts. I’m grateful.”

“Do you mean Amanda Grayson?” Sasek interjected, leaving aside the menu.

T'Mirek thought it was funny. Sasek was a gossiper and was always willing to hear good gossip, even when he didn't know who was involved.

“Yes, she was very kind to me at the time.”

“She seems to be a very sweet woman from what T'suk says about her. A pity that the press destroys her every time she dares to breathe in public,” Stonn agreed, exchanging a short glance with T’suk and then, returned back to examining the menu in his hands.

None of those involved in that marriage had been spared the cruelty of public scrutiny. Even the Ambassador had received his share of it.

She found it intriguing how the Terran public had received the event. It was not particularly momentous in itself, since interspecies marriage had increased in recent years.

“My human neighbor says that the press is a heartless bitch,” Sasek said.

“A crude analogy,” T’Mirek pointed out.

“But an accurate one,” T’ Leia added.

“The Terran culture is fascinating because of this,” Stonn replied. “Feelings are above facts.”

“I am intrigued by the myriad ways in which the press on this planet can overanalyze a situation or portray it negatively to tempt the curiosity of others,” Sasek said.

“In some versions, Mrs. Grayson is portrayed as a villain out of some piece of fiction that is motivated by monetary gain or fame. In other media, she is a victim of an alien fetishist,” T’Leia agreed.

“I assure you that none of these representations are truthful,” T’suk stated in a flat tone.

There was silence.

Sasek looked at them all and T'Mirek knew he must have heard something.

“Did you hear the news?” Sasek said, putting aside the menu and leaning as if he intended to share a secret. “Remember the Vulcan found in the bay? Well, everything indicates that he was not just _someone_. It seems that he was an important person within a huge hotel service corporation.”

“Oh, no. I haven't seen the news lately,” T’Leia quickly answered.

“I didn't hear about it in the media,” he let her know. “I was told.”

T’suk arched an eyebrow in disbelief, and then added, “I have not seen anything reported about him since it was announced that he had been found.”

“I have my own sources,” he replied. “As Terrans say, it’s a small world.”

“They say someone killed him,” he added in a whispering voice.

“Why would somebody do that?” T’Leia wondered, almost horrified.

“Yeah. What does your sources say about that?” T’Mirek teased him, imitating his previous way to indicate he had his sources.

Sasek meditated for a brief moment.

T’Mirek understood such gesture as he didn’t know the reason.

“Here on Earth…It could be for anything. I once saw in the crime channel that a man killed another man because he scratched his car when he parked.”

T'Mirek shuddered at the thought of the brutality of that response to something as trivial as accidentally scratching someone's car. Some individuals seemed to be one bad day away from going crazy, and that was very frightening

“Hum. I don’t think it was that kind of crime.”

“That would not happen at home,” Stonn said. “I think I will order Penne with vegan _Arrabbiata_ sauce.”

Her heart turned over.

Sometimes she wondered if she still had the right to call Vulcan home, being who she was and how she had decided to live her life.

“I doubt that you even know what _Arrabbiata_ sauce is, Stonn,” T’Leia said.

“Indeed, but it sounds interesting.”

It was horrible and unfair to those involved. But as unpleasant as that had been, T'Mirek recognized the confidence with which writers, columnists and journalists could speak in public.

That wouldn't happen at home either.

**Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ**

As soon as the search warrant was granted, Wyatt and Saavedra rushed with a team of forensic investigators to the victim's apartment.

It was exactly as they thought it would be. 

It was so spacious and elegant. It almost looked like a house and, it made the apartment where Wyatt lived look like a decaying mousetrap.

The subtle pinewood scent Wyatt sensed once the front door opened let him know that someone had cleaned the place recently. This was not unusual among wealthy people. However, if he had been murdered there, it was likely that the cleaning staff had inadvertently disposed of some evidence.

He was discouraged by that.

“The vase there alone costs more than my shoes,” Saavedra joked when they stepped into the living room. “You were right. He was wasting his money as if his life was going to be spent on it.”

Wyatt nodded.

 _Indeed_ , he thought.

“How strange, don't you think?” Saavedra wondered. “Consumerism doesn't sound very logical.”

“That's the least strange thing about it all.”

The living room was spacious and decorated in a minimalist way. Most of the furniture was in opaque shades ranging from pale gray to black.

The place had a modern Terran style with some small decorative touches with elements of the late tenant's Vulcan culture. Almost all of those decorative elements could be overlooked. Except for the egregious painting in the middle of the main wall that seemed to be on display.

The magnificence of the painting absorbed Wyatt's attention.

“It that a baby bear?” he asked, turning around to Saavedra who was taking a picture.

“It looks like it,” she said, nonchalantly.

The painting consisted of a little baby bear with a pair of irises that looked golden. It looked peaceful, but fierce. Its pair of long white fangs stood out among its dark, lustrous brown fur.

“Well, as far I know, bears don’t have fangs,” he pointed out.

“Maybe, baby bears _do_ have them and fall out when they grow up,” she said playfully.

“Perhaps… but _not_ on this planet,” he added.

 _Perhaps in Vulcan,_ he wondered.

But he didn't know.

“It looks cute, though,” Saavedra said, walking towards the painting to take a look. “He liked art, as well.”

“It’s a print,” he said, half paying attention.

In one of the rectangular spaces where a flat screen was placed there was a collection of three vases of different colors with interesting patterns that he assumed to be Vulcan writing. 

It looked a bit like the decorative mural he had seen when he went to talk to the victim's colleague. Would it be Vulcan writing or just an interesting design?

“No, isn’t. If you look closely, you can see the brushstrokes.”

Wyatt looked a little closer and could see the soft brushstrokes that made up the animal's fur. It had probably taken the artist forever to finish that piece, considering how detailed and realistic the overall composition looked.

Everything about it looked so unfamiliar and alien.

“I see.”

“No signature,” she noticed, exhaling. “What a pity. The artist has talent. This baby bear looks beautiful.”

Although the reddish background showed a desert landscape, it did not look like an earthy one. The realistic and sober style of the painting made him think that it was not a fantastic creature on an imaginary landscape, but that an attempt had been made to depict a scene from an existing world.

“Please take pictures of the paintings as well,” Saavedra asked a young man from the forensic team.

“Yes, Officer,” the man answered and immediately, complied with Saavedra’s request.

“Officer, we found a laptop in the bedroom.”

Saavedra smiled, rubbing his hands together with restrained emotion.

“See?” she teased. “We _did_ find something.”

Wyatt smiled too and replied, “I'm glad I was wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone again! Thank you so much for coming back and reading this chapter. I'm very happy because the story already surpassed 50k words. That's more than I ever wrote in my native language and it makes me happy.  
> I figured out how to style the font. So, I changed the font to Garamond and also chose another symbol for the scene break.
> 
> I thank everyone who has stopped by the story, subscribed, left kudos or a comment.  
> Special thanks to Stelmarya and Homo_Vulcanensis for commenting on the last chapter!  
> Thank you very much for being here, take care of yourselves and stay safe.


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